


Vir Tanlath

by Herald_of_Naamah



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bisexuality, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, other characters may appear - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 63
Words: 64,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herald_of_Naamah/pseuds/Herald_of_Naamah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belathen Lavellan, primary Hunter of her clan, finds herself unexpectedly in charge of the infant Inquisition and simultaneously falling for two people who couldn't be any more different... or unattainable. But fate is a strange thing, and love laughs at what we think we know- even about ourselves.</p><p>(This is what happens when you try a short challenge request and it spurs a what-if. No longer going. Very much done. Spoilers from Inquisition.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have surprisingly found a need to come back and make a note. I am warning that I am dealing two controversial issues in this story: polyamory and bisexuality.
> 
> You would be surprised which I have been informed is more controversial.
> 
> Spoiler in below explanation:
> 
> This started as a request fill for two questions:  
> 1) After dealing with his father, you get a major jump for accepting Dorian's 'in another life' discourse with the offer to let him keep flirting- because it's natural. Please write a story explaining why!
> 
> 2) if Cullen is bi, as some of the writing would indicate, who would be his best male counterpart?
> 
> I could have separated these out. I chose not to. I already wrote an Inquisitor and Dorian as best friends on another site and really wanted to try something a little more challenging and nearer to my heart... thus this.
> 
> If the idea of a typically non-bi character being more open offends, I thank you for your interest and hope you find another story for your needs. This will not be it.
> 
> (For anyone who wants more explanation on the necessity of this note I will put it as an end note on chapter 59)

Prologue: Vir Enasalin

The story starts with an elven huntress being declared the Inquisitor...

No. That isn't quite true. It starts with the Dalish woman stepping out of a rift in the Fade...

No.

The full honest truth is it starts a couple years before that, with two Dalish elves just becoming women. In the middle of the Free Marches, before Clan Lavellan headed north, they found the bustle of the moving aravels the perfect cover to slip out of camp and into a nearby cleared cavern. One had command of the magics around them, and the other bore her bow to ensure they were able to handle any unwelcome guests.

And in the stolen solitude of the cave, they explored each other.

The mage's hands were on the huntress as soon as they entered the relative safety. "I've had my mind on this all day," she admitted. "You. Pants. Off."

"Ellana! You're insatiable." The words lost their sting however as the rogue did as requested. Ellana pulled at the buttons of her partner's tunic as the pants slid to the floor. Then the hunter raised her hands to the other woman, pulling at the mage's robes until she had access to Ellana's breasts. The round pertness felt firm in her hands; she squeezed, feeling the soft tissue form to her finger. As Ellana wrapped an arm around, squeezing at her ass cheeks, the sensations in the huntress' body were only heightened by the solid hold she had on the other woman. She couldn't stand it for long and her hand drifted downward.

"Creators, Bel! I still can't believe you'd never done this before."

Belathen Lavellan, up-and-coming hunter of Clan Lavellan, simply smiled and ran her fingers through the fur above her partner's womanhood; the hair was fine, soft to the touch, and matched Ellana's brilliant blonde locks. It was as though the mage was sun-kissed, and Belathen was determined not to let the sun have all the fun. She pulled in close, pinning Ellana to the wall with a commanding hand on her shoulder and covering the other woman's lips with her own. The hand in the other woman's curls slid down to the throbbing nub. The response was immediate. Ellana gasped against Bel's mouth, her free hand desperately trying to return the favor. Belathen allowed the deft fingers to slide into her lower lips, the gentle sensation flooding her. She was already damp between her legs, the arousal warm, but at the touch she felt the sensation increase exponentially. Bel moved against the fingers inside her, letting them relieve that inner itch she'd had all day thinking of Ellana.

Then there was a sudden, weak pulse of lightening inside her tunnel and Bel hissed in pleasure. "Ellie." Neither woman was sure if it was a warning or a plea.

"They'll be looking for us," the blonde mage reminded. "There's no time to linger."

Nodding her understanding, Belathen let the more feral part of her nature take over. She trailed a few kisses on Ellana's neck, nipping in places while being sure to leave no marks. That area between her legs was now throbbing with her own desire, but she knew Ellana needed this just as much. So she used the hand against the woman to push, the other dipping in to feel how damp her lover was; as suspected, Bel found her fellow elf just as wet and desiring as she. They couldn't longer even if they wanted to! That in mind, Belathen gave her fingers a rough wiggle, trying to get as much of the sweet nectar between Ellana's legs as possible.

Ellana's knees buckled, the mage starting to slide to the floor. Bel slowed the descent, joining her lethallan on the ground but ensuring she was over the magic-user. She raised the fingers to her lips, licking the juices left there, and let out a satisfied moan. It was sweet as ever, and so thick it coated completely. The hunter cleaned every last take before the same fingers reclaimed the sweet prize between Ellana's legs, desperately reaching to give pleasure. Ellana refused to take without return however, and worked her hand with equal fervor.

"Please Bel," the mage finally begged. "I... need your..." Ellana blushed, then finished the request in heady lust. "...tongue."

"Ma nuvenin." Belathen turned, an evil grin as she added, "Turn-about IS fair play, lethallan."

Ellana nodded vigorously, accepting the warm wetness of Bel's pussy at her lips as the huntress slid into place. At the same time, Bel was leaning so that her own mouth and tongue could dance at the other woman's entrance as requested. Bel doubted she would ever manage to get enough of her body, her reactions- her sex, her whimpers of lust.

The hunter did not allow herself to give in to Ellana's ministrations until she felt the other woman writhing in the pleasure of climax, her body straightening like a shot before relaxing into a pulsing rhythm that was unmistakeable. As soon as she did, Bel moved a hand to her own clit and rubbed quickly, letting the sensation drag her over the last edge to her own orgasm. The release was not sudden to the mage, who even in her post-sexual haze redoubled her efforts as she felt Bel tip over the end and into bliss.

It was then, holding each other in the afterglow of the moment, that Ellana took a deep, hesitant breath and squeezed Belathen close. "I... ir abelas, lethallan. I should not have given in tonight."

"Ellana! How can you say that?"

When Belathen turned to her partner, she saw tears threatening to fall. The mage looked sorrowful, spent, and suddenly far beyond her years. "The truth is, Bel, this... our coupling tonight... it is not what had me preoccupied today. Though I did have many thoughts of you."

"Ellie. Please." Belathen reached up, rubbing the wetness from Ellana's cheek as it slowly fell. "What's wrong?"

"I... spoke with Keeper Deshanna today. With Imoren's death- she wants me to become First, Bel!"

"But that's wonderful!" The hunter blinked, confused that the tears were coming faster now. "Isn't it?"

"It is," Ellana assured. "I wouldn't dare refuse such a gift. But as a future Keeper there are new expectations. Ensuring I know the lore. Passing down the knowledge. Passing along my magic."

The comment hung in the air even as Ellana pulled her clothing back into place, making the last hour disappear as if nothing had happened. Belathen shook the sensation off, letting Ellana's words penetrate until they made sense.

"I understand," the huntress sighed, standing as she located her own pants and tunic. "That doesn't mean that this- that WE- have to end."

Ellana chuckled. "Belathen? I'm not like that, and you know it."

Belathen hung her head slightly, fighting the tears that started to spring in her own eyes. Yes, she knew Ellana's heart very well. Once, in a moment of passion, the mage had even called her vhenan, iterating that the huntress was the one who held her heart. So Belathen understood that to Ellana, love was selfish; she could not accept more than one love, like so many in Lavellan. She had taken that in mind, accepted that- for Ellie. Because somewhere in her mind she had thought this was true love.

Bel didn't understand that kind of selfish love. Her mother had always told her one thing to hold as true: a heart is unique in that it can be split without breaking, can be shared without becoming less. Her mother had named her for the concept- though many Lavellans snickered as though her name was the punchline to a dirty joke. Belathen. Many loves. She was saddled with the name, and burdened by her own beliefs.

As Ellana, apparently, was not.

The two women walked together in silence back to the camp as the moonlight. There was one last reach of hands, a squeeze to say good-bye to evening trysts and stolen kisses, and then they parted. They would see each other again many times, but live separate lives. And never again would they sneak into the woods alone.

Ellana would become the very image of a First. Her prowess with magic was soon well-respected, and Deshanna was lauded for her apt choice. She was bonded to the clan's second, hoping to ensure a child with strong magical talent to lead the clan in the future.

Belathen went to the hunters and threw herself into work with a vengeance. She quickly rose to be considered the best hunter in the clan; in spite of her young age, she was dedicated wholly to the craft. And much to her fellow hunters' chagrin, she was completely uninterested in any kind of liaison. Not that there weren't attempts: several men and even some women were enamored of her skill as a huntress and tried to bed her, but it was without result. She would state a need to stay vigilant, or explain she was cold and needed to stay by the warmth of the fire...

The latter was not a falsehood. Even the slightest breeze set Belathen into a fit of shivers, had since she was a child. The former wasn't really incorrect either, and was impossible to deny. They started to call her asha'eir- the woman of ice. They claimed it was because of her sensitivity to the cold, and Bel allowed it; it was better than the snicker of a dirty joke, and certainly better than acknowledging it was because of her coldness towards them. She pretended not to see their amusement...

Or be hurt when she realized they were taking bets on who would eventually bed her. Many said eventually the Keeper would have to force a bonding. Belathen almost laughed at that concept; as if she could be forced to marry a lesser hunter than herself!

When Deshanna asked for the best of her hunters, Belathen was there. When they asked for a volunteer to go south and enter the Conclave of the shemlen leaders, Bel's hand was the first to raise. Ellana looked shocked, then horrified, but Bel brushed the reaction away. It had been a while since they had meant anything to each other.

She was asha'eir now. And she would complete her mission for Clan Lavellan.


	2. We Call It the Breach

Chapter One: We Call It The Breach

Cullen was surprised by the look of the prisoner that had stepped out of the Fade and into Haven. Cassandra had asked him to look the woman over and help determine how much of a threat she might pose on waking up- IF she woke up. The apostate elf hadn't left her side yet, and Cullen felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as he felt the mage pulling on the strings of the Fade as if it were a toy. The Templar in him almost lashed out; the Commander won out, staying calm and bending down to inspect the elven woman. If she could be called that, truly.

Her hair was a deep cinnamon color, lingering somewhere between brown and red, and either she kept it tied in a tight bun or Leliana had pulled it back that way. The valleslin on her face appeared several years old by how it had healed, but she herself couldn't be more than in her early twenties. He sighed- she was hardly more than a girl, and yet she had a hand in... all this?

As he thought that, Cullen saw the green pulse in the elven woman's hand flicker and heard her cry out. It was a stifled scream, as if she was naturally attempting to ignore the pain, but this seemed to be too much. In sleep, she drew the hand close to her body and cradled it until the pulse stopped.

"Maker... is that normal?" Cullen asked the apostate... Solas, if he recalled correctly.

"It has happened every time the Breach widens." The statement was so clear, so matter-of-fact! "I have come to the conclusion it is attempting to draw on her natural energy to create the rift. Her current condition seems to support this theory."

Cullen blinked. "Pretend I know nothing of this kind of magic."

"It is killing her." It was still steady, but Cullen could swear he saw a ping of regret, just barely. "I am doing all I can, but this power is beyond me. I find it hard to believe it belongs to any mage."

"If it is using her..." Cullen swallowed, not pleased he was even considering this. "What if we killed her? Would it stop? Go away?"

"I do not believe so. I think it would simply find another host, preferably someone stronger and likely the one who made the killing blow."

"That does not sound pleasant," Cullen admitted. "What about demons?"

"What about them? They walk the very hills, Commander."

"Does that... mark... make her more susceptible to possession?"

"With the rifts, demons can simply appear as they please without need for a host. Even if they wanted to take someone over, this elf is no mage." In further explanation, Solas pointed to the tattoos on the girl's face. "These are the symbols of Andruil, the huntress. She was also found with a bow and some well-made arrows. Not only that, I sense no magic in her veins. My guess? She's a hunter."

Cullen examined the woman more closely. Strong arms, meant for stringing and loosing a bow with devastating power. He didn't have a good look at her legs in the leather pants she wore, but there seemed to be some form there as well. "A hunter. That does seem likely." He stood up then, sighing. "Thank you for your assistance."

"You can thank me when I find a way to get her conscious."

"Or I can thank you now. If you don't accept until later, the choice is yours."

Cullen stepped out of the dungeon-like room and met Cassandra's eyes directly. The Seeker took a deep breath and approached the former Templar.

"Well?"

"She seems very young."

"At her age I was fighting a dragon to save Justinia. Leliana had already helped stop the fifth blight and was returning to Orlais." Cassandra's lips thinned, her eyes harsh. "You were already deep inside Kirkwall. You only feel old, Cullen. She isn't more than a decade your junior, probably less."

Cullen nodded. "I suppose you are right. At any rate, unless you put a bow in her hands I doubt she will pose much of a problem."

Cassandra seemed to grow more relaxed at that comment, even managing a smile. The smile widened as Solas came running out, explaining he had success and the prisoner was waking up.

The next time Cullen would see the woman who would come to mean so much to him, to all Thedas, was more thematically appropriate. She was framed on one side by Cassandra and the apostate on the other, a Fade rift in the background. Varric's bolts were flying around her towards approaching demons, but the elf remained still, hand raised as she fought against the green energies and tried to pull on a tether to shutter the gateway. He was going to call out as a demon approached, trying to tear into her, but then Cassandra was there to beat it into submission. The elven woman picked herself off the ground and raised her palm, closing the small rip before turning towards him.

And Cullen was disturbed to realize she had a pretty smile.


	3. A Rogue Walks Into a Bar

Chapter Two: A Rogue Walks Into a Bar...

After almost a month, it was still there in the upper corner of the map. It was mocking her, the elven woman was certain. 'Contact Clan Lavellan' it said. She would ignore the mark every time, in spite of her advisors' confusion. It was driving Josephine mad. Admittedly, the huntress understood exactly why; responding to an elven inquiry should be simple for an elf, all that was needed was an understanding of customs...

Only it WASN'T easy.

Which is exactly why, on returning from Val Royeaux, she took care of checking in with the rest of the council and immediately disappeared into the tavern. Where she proceeded to order two tankards and commandeer a table, sparing only a brief nod for her new companion Sera.

Hours passed. Somehow. The soldiers finished training for the day, a few entering for a drink of their own and one even successful at seducing the tavern owner. But the Dalish girl still hid, drowning her discomfort and lies in cheap Fereldan beer, wondering if it was already too late...

"Herald."

She hissed at the title. It was spoken softly to avoid attention, but still grated on her nerves. She wasn't the Herald of ANYTHING, much less a dead shemlen woman too stupid to maintain a relationship with one of her husbands! She raised her head to the source of the deep, kind voice and paused. Commander Cullen was... handsome. How has she missed that? "Your hair," she mumbled, blinking. "Is it... trying to curl?"

"Maker have mercy," Cullen sighed as he looked at the table. "How many of these are yours?"

"M'not sure." Another lie. "An' don call me Herald."

The former Templar's face softened as he pulled the elven woman out of her seat. "Well, I'm not sure what to call you then. You haven't exactly offered your name."

"It's a secret," she answered, giggling. "A dirty secret!" She got to her feet and immediately fell forward, only Cullen's strong arms keeping her upright. "Dirty secret," she repeated, dissolving into a full fit of giggles... and quite suddenly falling unconscious into his hold.

Cullen, stunned, gathered the Herald into his arms. She was light, far too light actually, and still. With a sigh he started walking towards the home she'd been staying in, setting her on the bed. Shaking his head, he turned to leave and get the apothecary to mix up something for a hangover...

Only to have his wrist grabbed. For a slight elven girl, she was remarkably strong when barely conscious.

"Don't leave me alone," she murmured, whispering. Cullen felt his heart drop. "Please."

There were so many reasons to extricate himself from her hand. She was an elf; she was the Herald; he was still sick, trying to get rid of the worst parts of himself. And there was only one reason to stay with her. She was vulnerable in this moment, her words echoing a sentiment he had held once. After Kinloch Hold.

So instead of leaving, Cullen shrugged off his armor one arm at a time, undoing his boots with the same grace to ensure she had hold of him always. He found a chair that was left there from after the failed attempt to close the Breach, settling into it and trying to get comfortable. He did however set his legs on the bed, and the elf was not shy about wrapping around one tightly.

So there Cullen found himself, the little elven Herald in front of him. Her tunic was looser than he'd realized. Among the Dalish it was not inappropriate or disconcerting for unintended exposure to occur; Cullen knew that, understood modesty was very different in her culture. It didn't stop his jaw almost dropping when he saw that her binding had come undone and the shirt slid down, offering ample view of her bosom. She hid it under armor, tucked away to avoid accident, but Blessed Andraste they were rounded and rather larger than he'd first imagined. Not that he'd been imagining her... Maker!

There was no denying that they had been flirting before now. She'd given more than a few winks, and he honestly just believed she did it to tease and annoy him. It was worse across the table in the war room, as whenever the other women weren't looking she would flash a seductive grin or lick her lip just so... Maybe she didn't know she was doing it, but that seemed unlikely. She had an aire about her that spoke of mostly unrealized but oh so dangerously understood sexuality, and Cullen found that kernel of possibility all the more intriguing.

Almost as intriguing as her tits.

'Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.' The Chant came to Cullen's mind, a comforting reminder to be a good man. 'Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just...'

Then she moaned in her sleep, a sound that was at once innocent and lewd. At the same time she squeezed his leg tighter, her breasts rubbing against him. It was maddening. How in Andraste's name could she not know?!?!?!???

The night went on much the same way. Cullen eventually managed to fall asleep in spite of the discomfort and distractions. It wasn't until morning dawned and the blue sky greeted him with its customary twinkle that he realized he hadn't had a nightmare for once. His sleep had been surprisingly, pleasantly, dreamless. He pulled out of slumber the rest of the way to find the bed abandoned, the Herald of Andraste leaning in front of a mirror and straightening her customary bun of cinnamon hair. His feet quickly moved, slamming to the ground and directing the elven woman's attention back to him.

"Good morning," she sighed, voice cautiously even.

"I... ah... yes. Good morning, Herald."

"Belathen."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm tired of being called by some... title. So I offer you information, Commander. My name. Belathen."

Cullen blinked, the pieces coming together. "Belathen, as in the elf Clan Lavellan was asking after Belathen?"

"I... yes." She sighed again, tying the piece of leather holding her hair in place tighter. "I also happen to be a plant. A spy, if you will."

"A spy?" Cullen almost shouted the word, leaping to his feet.

"Want to be a little louder? I'm not sure Sister Leliana heard you!" Her words were amused, much lighter than they had a right to be. "The Dalish realized that the war between mages and Templars would affect us all, and elected to send someone to watch the proceedings. Lavellan volunteered to send someone, and I volunteered in turn." 

Cullen had a look that was more akin to a hooked fish than a warrior. And all the elven woman could do was... chuckle. He forced himself to ask, "Is that all?"

"I suppose so," Belathen sighed, finishing up. "But in all truthfulness what I said last night was true: my name is the punchline to a dirty joke for most of the Dalish."

"I think it's beautiful." The words slipped out before Cullen could stop them, and he felt like hitting himself. Belathen, for her part, just met his eyes with a smile.

"If you think it's pretty, ask an elf what it means," she joked. "All the same, I... thank you."

Once determining with Leliana that Lavellan would NOT be a security risk, and that the elves had a right to know what was going on as much as anyone, Cullen did ask Solas about the name later that day- curious about what Bel meant. And while he did flush a little at the explanation, it didn't make either the name or the huntress who carried it any less beautiful to him. And it certainly didn't mean that in the dark of night, when blind faith was not enough and he took himself in hand, that her name was not the one that passed his lips in that moment of ecstasy and respite.

THAT was how he knew he was truly lost even before he knew he was in love.


	4. When In Redcliffe (Alternatively, Firework)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone reading! This is my first submission to this site, and my first fic with naughty bits. And those naughty bits are coming! I plan on plot with sex rather than vice versa, but when it comes there will be quite a bit of it! That said... let us meet the last member of our merry crew and set the stage for something interesting...

Chapter Three: When in Redcliffe (or, alternatively, Firework)

In retrospect, the Tevinter mage should have been more of a surprise than he was. Maybe it was because, as a hunter, Belathen processed life faster and by the time she met him (twenty minutes after finding out Redcliffe was populated by northerners) she had already determined someone from their country had to have noticed what was going on. Perhaps it was simply that as a Dalish she wasn't as preset to underestimate the nobility of the Tevene. Either way, every last one of her companions seemed shocked when the duo fell into what seemed a natural rhythm.

To be honest, Dorian was a bit confused by their easy rapport himself. Part of that had to do with the fact that Lavellan was not even slightly the way he had expected. Cassandra fit the image he had of the woman people were calling Andraste's chosen; when he got to Haven, he found even the red-headed Orlesian spymistress more closely filled the descriptions of the Herald in temperament. The Dalish girl with red tattoos on her face who bandied words with him as though it was second nature? He didn't see what the others saw. Bel Lavellan was just another woman.

At least that was what he thought.

It was en route to Redcliffe that he found the huntress just outside their hastily erected campsite as dark closed in for the evening. More to the point he found her boots and armor on the edge of the campfire and curiosity led him to seek her out. There were no footprints, no indication of her direction... for all intents and purposes, she had vanished into thin air.

At least, Dorian thought that was the case until a heavy blanket fell out of a nearby tree. He watched as the item was followed by a very graceful arch as the female elf turned herself to keep from getting hurt as she fell from a high tree branch, landing in a crouch beside the blanket. Once she had caught herself, Belathen allowed herself to topple slightly into the soft cover, laying in the middle of the green fabric for several minutes before Dorian approached.

"So if an elf falls out of a tree in the middle of the forest," he asked snarkily, "does she still make a sound?"

She chuckled at the comment and shrugged. "You tell me, falon. Did I?"

"You were so loud I could have set you on fire without looking." That was a lie. If that topple had been anything, soundless was an apt description.

"Hmm." The Herald sounded... offended. "I must be losing my skill." Dorian offered a hand, but the elven girl waved it off and pulled herself up. "I'm freezing," she admitted.

"I completely understand the sentiment. Tevinter is far warmer than this."

Belathen's eyes twinkled. "Really? That sounds nice."

"It is. Sadly, not everything in the Imperium is as temperate as the weather."

A flash of sadness and guilt covered Bel's face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up any... unpleasant memories." Then, as they neared the fire, she handed over the prize of her blanket. "Peace offering?"

"Peace offering. If you'll sit and share the warmth with me."

The two found themselves around the fire as it attempted to die. A quick addition of kindling fixed that, as did the extra log. Dorian noticed the elf still shivering in the cool mountain air and shifted; when she sat beside him, he threw part of the blanket over her shoulders to share.

"Ma saren... I mean, thank you."

"No need to freeze. More than enough to go around." Her skin really was a bit icy. She must be some kind of lizard-elf. "So where did the Hands of the Divine dig you up?"

Belathen laughed as her body unwittingly moved deeper into her companion's warmth. "Didn't you know? Apparently Heralds of Andraste fall out of the sky. I suspect another will be along any minute. Maybe a qunari this time!" She clapped her hands jovially, warming them a bit. "Can't you just imagine?"

"A kossith as the scion of the Chantry? I think Thedas would fall apart." Dorian laughed, taking her hands in his own. "May I?"

"Please."

Dorian looked around to make sure Cassandra was well abed before he summoned the small bit of heat and let it flow to the young Dalish girl's fingers. It curled around the magic of the green mark there for a moment before continuing its journey. Lavellan seemed to relax a bit at the warmth. "I can't imagine the Seeker was pleased," Dorian noted conversationally. "Between the mark and your... heritage."

"Now who's bringing up unpleasant memories?" Bel tisked lightly, shaking her head. When Dorian balked she assured him, "I'm joking. Creators! Of all the people to be serious... Though I think Cass started out firmly in the 'kill the elf' camp, she came around quickly. I did have to bite my tongue when we first met- she asked me about this mark, and for the life of me I wanted to tell her it was a fashion statement from the Free Marches."

"If you had," Dorian chuckled, "I'm sure you would be dead and Thedas doomed. On behalf of the world, I thank you for holding your words."

"On behalf of muddled elven hunter me, I accept."

When the morning found the camp, there were two unused tents, and Dorian and Bel were leaning under the large blanket against each other fast asleep. Solas smiled at the sight. Cassandra sighed, inside debating between forgetting this happened and telling Varric every word so he could use it in his next book. She worried about how close the two seemed, but it also seemed cruel to ask them to drop it for now.

The week that followed definitely wasn't one to help separate the Dalish woman and the Tevinter male. In fact, after their little jaunt to the future, Cassandra herself was loathe to even consider suggesting the duo ignore the friendship they had created out of nothing. When she found them exhausted by the fire again, having fallen asleep almost as soon as camp was set after the events of the day, all the Seeker did was find the blanket and toss it around the duo. She wasn't sure how long may have passed for them in Redcliffe, how challenging it may have been, and they deserved the rest. Something told her she owed them a lot more than she would ever know.


	5. Did You Ever Have to Make Up Your Mind?

Chapter Four: Did You Ever Have to Make Up Your Mind?

Dorian caught Cullen's attention immediately. It wasn't about the fact he was from Tevinter, or that the man was a mage, or even that he was younger. It was that Dorian was so very CONFIDENT, and not afraid to let it show. The exuberance was dramatic and enticing; Cullen couldn't help but get caught in the swirl of that storm. It brought out things he had imagined left back in his younger days, when he was an anxious recruit and new to the Templar order.

'I heard one of the Wardens who stopped the Blight was a Templar recruit before he was a Warden. Did you know him?' It was a question Cullen was always very cautious in answering, usually saying that they were classmates for a time but did not know each other well. Sometimes he amended that to 'tolerably well.' Rarely, he admitted they had been friendly, mostly because it is embarrassing to admit that your first kiss was with your best friend who immediately apologized for not being interested. They had grown apart of necessity after that- Alistair going to the Wardens and Cullen finding relief in prayer. And maybe a slight infatuation with the mage who saved Fereldan. Also uninterested. Cullen was starting to see a trend... but Dorian...

Cullen couldn't help but stare at the man. More interestingly, the Tevinter would sometimes be staring back with something akin to lust in his eyes. That sparked something in Cullen that was altogether too unfamiliar to be comforting. Or had been. Before the Herald. The whole situation gave him a headache not wholly related to the blue chains of the lesser parts of the Chantry.

If he thought he was good for anybody right now, Cullen might have thought the situation through more carefully. But that wasn't an option. He was broken, and until he managed to fix that part of him that had splintered there was no use considering a 'might-be' like romance. Not that the teasing from both parties didn't entice: he was dedicated, not dead.

"Commander Cullen!"

The excited, breathless voice of Belathen Lavellan rose above the rest of the crowd celebrating the successful sealing of the Breach. She continued by dashing up to him and throwing her arms around his neck in a friendly hug; the motion required her to jump a bit, and fearful for her safe landing Cullen's arms wrapped around her waist...

Which is precisely how he wound up on his back, on the ground, in the middle of Haven, with an arm full of elven Herald. Bel, for her part, managed to have her legs catch perfectly on either side of the would-be rescuer.

"Are you having fun yet, Commander?"

"It... has potential." Cullen was desperately fighting the urge not to glance down. He KNEW what she kept under her clothing, Maker help him, and the last thing he needed was an eyeful of Belathen Lavellan's breasts. Just thinking about not looking got his eyes to waver unfortunately and... she was fully dressed, but he had seen them before, and Andraste damn him he couldn't help but fill in the blanks!

Of course as Cullen felt the blood rush from his face and create a VERY familiar tingling in his cock, Bel moved. She sat up, now officially straddling him, and suddenly Cullen found his only hope was that she did not shuffle backwards at all. A single inch lower and she wouldn't be able to help noticing his... "discomfort."

"Potential?" Bel's hips wiggled excitedly. It was a perfectly innocent gesture, somewhat, and yet it only made the situation... harder. And damn the little lilt of tension in her voice.

"I would probably enjoy myself more if you weren't keeping me pinned to the ground," Cullen pointed out, pulling on every reserve of willpower to keep from reaching up and pulling her down to claim her mouth.

Belathen for her part just pouted, but remained still. "Are you sure about that, Cullen?" The way his name rolled off her lips suddenly, rich like it was a sultry word, almost broke his resolve...

"Come now, little snowdrop, it's time to stop being mean to the Commander." Cullen raised his eyes to see Dorian approaching, doing his best not to laugh. "I'm sure he's put up with enough." The Tevinter male's appearance did not help matters. As always, he was impeccably put together, and when he passed to pat the elf on her shoulder, Cullen got a good look at his ass, and...

"But Dorian..."

Several things happened at once.

The first was that Belathen sat back that last inch, which is why her words halted. The second was that Cullen tried to sit up to stop her, only resulting in his eyes being right at the posterior he had just been admiring. The third was that all three quite suddenly gasped at their predicament. The fourth, and final, was Leliana walking up to the trio and pausing.

"My apologies if I am interrupting," the bard clipped, "but there are a few things I need to discuss with our Lady Herald."

Cullen and Bel both stood to full height, brushing off the dirt. "Can't it wait?" Cullen asked, confused. "The job is done for the moment..."

"Commander." Belathen's voice was harsher now than it had been, almost steely. "The Breach is closed, that is all. Whoever did this is still out there." Looking at Leliana, she asked, "That IS what you meant to discuss, yes?"

"As you say. We must plan for the future, Lavellan."

Bel looked to the two men. "Then I will take my leave. Besides, it would appear there are two battles here I have already lost."

Cullen was left confused by that comment, but rather than dwell allowed himself to get wrapped in conversation with the mage. They had just agreed to a challenge of chess when the call was heard through Haven, and Cullen knew that the Herald and the Nightingale were right. The person behind this was ready to make their own move.


	6. This Was a Safe Haven

Chapter 5: This Was A Safe Haven

"You've really done it now, asha'eir." The words were quiet, spoken to herself and lost to the rage of the snowstorm that curled around her and seeped through her skin. Belathen wasn't cold anymore; that had ended five minutes into this blizzard-stricken trek through the snow. Now she was numb. The friction from her clothing burned as it generated heat- that couldn't be a good thing. It definitely did not inspire confidence in her own heart.

'Me without magic would be as helpless as Bel in a blizzard,' Ellana had joked once to Keeper Deshanna. It was an apt description. Hunters worked in silence, and were taught to avoid snow as a general rule since it often crunched underfoot. On top of that she was so sensitive to the cold that it was inevitable even with the best of planning that she would freeze. Bel in a blizzard was indeed very hopeless.

When the elf fell into the snow, her body giving out and her mind going fuzzy, Belathen was distantly aware that this was bad. She didn't care. 'Maybe I'll move after a short nap.' The phrase came to mind, and some small part sensed the danger, but it didn't matter. She let her eyes droop, taking a deep breath that felt oddly shuddering...

Only to have a small blue wisp cross right before her vision before she could close her eyes. It was so bright she had to look... It vaguely resembled someone or something, but she couldn't quite place it. "Don't you dare, snowdrop," it warned.

"I'm lost. Cold," she tried to protest.

"I can take care of the lost bit." The image beckoned her to follow, then waited there. Bel almost cursed it out, declined, but the part of her that sensed the danger took over. She forced herself to her feet, grumbling but moving. Slowly, but moving nonetheless.

It was another ten minutes before Belathen tripped again. This time she found the snow was higher, and it was exponentially harder to pull herself up. She sat for a full minute, huffing, before the spirit that had been guiding her (it couldn't be anything else, could it?) came to kneel in front of her.

"You are better than this."

"No," she choked. "I'm not."

"So you're just going to submit to death in the freezing cold?"

~We are the last of the elvhenan. Never again will we submit.~

"No." And she rose to her feet again, looking forward. "Who... no, what..?"

"A parlor trick. Something I picked up in training back home. Never thought such a small spell would be useful." There was a moment of hesitation. "We have to hurry, snowdrop."

"Snowdrop." The nickname tried to connect, but failed. "Alright. Let's go."

She fell at least twice more. The entire experience was a blur, and Belathen wasn't sure if she trekked for an hour or a day. She was aware that the best sound she ever heard was the bustle of activity and Cullen rushing towards her before she passed out completely, unable to help succumbing to the exhaustion and cold any longer.

When Belathen did awaken, it was to Cullen exchanging a blanket that was over her for something that was so warm it had obviously lain by the fire. She blinked her eyes open and reached for his wrist before he could pull it away, only to be greeted by a smile.

"I surprised him," she told the Commander.

"That you did."

"How long..?"

"Since the attack? That was yesterday. You got back to us several hours ago, and we've been frantically trying to get you warm since."

"My apologies for the challenge."

Cullen squeezed her hand. He wasn't going to tell her how close it had been, how difficult the medics found it to warm her safely- without sending her body into shock from the dramatic change in temperature. His own heart had flip-flopped at how very frozen she had felt, how limp in his arms when he had carried her into their makeshift camp. Seeing color back in her cheeks and face beyond the stark red of her valleslin was remarkable as well as relieving.

"Belathen, I..."

Before he could finish even thinking what he wanted to say, the small elven woman was curling around his arm and starting to fall asleep. It was selfish, he thought, to think of asking for more right now. Instead he sat down, pulling her and the blanket together into his lap and letting her rest.

Only a slight thought went to Dorian across the way, who Solas had pulled apart from the group stating a case of mana exhaustion. It was a little odd- he had seemed fine right after the battle. In fact, it wasn't until earlier this afternoon anything had seemed wrong with the mage... Curious.


	7. Not in Kirkwall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thank you commenters! You give me the little push to keep writing when I consider... Well, not.
> 
> Second, there is 'odd elvish' in this chapter where translation doesn't come naturally. But that's what notes are for!
> 
> Translations:  
> ma da'sha- my little girl  
> It tel'na'len- I am not your child.  
> Ada- father? (ok, so I borrowed from Tolkien because it fit nicely)

Chapter Six: Not in Kirkwall

"Fenedhis." Belathen couldn't stop the word from slipping out as she slid on another piece of rubble in this recently forsaken ruin. "You are certain about this place, hahren?"

Solas chuckled as he put a hand out to steady the tripping huntress. "It is a brilliant location, ma da'sha."

One of her eyebrows raised at the endearment, and she turned to face him. "Ir tel'na'len." She stuck her tongue out at the same time, then paused as if considering. "Or am I? Ada?"

Solas rolled his eyes a bit at the obvious tease. "In reality it is not possible. In practice, however, it seems to have become something of an assignment."

Belathen could have laughed it off, but something in his voice sounded genuinely light-hearted and kind right then that she figured it worth taking advantage of. They had spoken very often, usually in early mornings, him telling her about the Fade and explaining that of his past he was willing to claim; in that time she had come to regard him as an elder, a teacher... and yes, as close as family. It was why she was confident enough to forage ahead with him, check out this fortress as just a duo. It also took her mind off other issues: her missteps and uncomfortable mishaps.

So Belathen sat on a loose stone and kicked her shoes off. That was better! "Hahren, can I ask you a delicate question?"

"If you have the inclination I doubt I could stop you."

Belathen took a deep breath, pleased as Solas took a seat beside her. She turned her face away and let the words come out. "Have you ever been in love with the wrong person?"

Solas blinked. "I suppose one would have to accept that there is such a thing as a wrong person in order to ask that question. Or to answer it, for that matter."

Bel sighed. "I... Well..." Her cheeks reddened. "What about... romantic incompatibility? Is that a better way to ask?"

Solas frowned. "Da'len, if you're asking about my own predelictions..."

"Fenedhis lasa! No!" The response was quick, and got the kind of true laugh she knew only she had achieved to erupt from him.

"Ah. Then it's about one of the quick-blooded."

Belathen paused. "Wait. Was that meant to be... have the Dalish been pronouncing it wrong the whole time?" Solas glared, and she found herself shifting uncomfortably. "Yes, though. Shemlinan." She accepted the correction, and saw his demeanor change back to the relaxed elder.

"But that isn't your problem with your feelings."

"No. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's odd to find my heart reaching for ANY human, but I think I could handle that. It's just that..." Here she fumbled, uncertain. "I thought, at least with... one of them... that we might be headed to something... more than friendly. But I can't seem to really get his attention. It made no sense until I saw how he looks at... someone else."

"Another man?"

Belathen nodded. "Problem is that it seems neither of them is inclined towards me."

"You may be misreading the situation. I've seen the Commander's eyes on you when you aren't looking." Solas shrugged, a hand on her shoulder. "I think he may be more like you than you even realize. Remember that his upbringing was different from yours; it probably embarrasses him."

Belathen scrunched her nose. "I'm... not convinced."

"Trust me. As for anything, anyone, else, I suggest you trust in your judgement. You have the ability to delve into the truth of any matter, or so it seems. Use it." Then after a moment he added, "Besides, if I am correct in who else has garnered your attention I have a feeling that there may be a great deal more care than either of you is truly aware of."

"That would be surprising."

"Yes, it would," Solas agreed cryptically.

Before Belathen could ask what her hahren meant, a sound popped up beside them and she looked to see Cole. "There's a pacing cat in a hidden storm. They both are worried." The boy lowered his head, straightly asking, "Are you done yet? It's loud."

"I'd say everything seems clear," Solas answered as he stood. "Are you satisfied?"

"It's a mess, but it will do," she offered as she looked around. She left the shoes in their place; she'd spent most of her life barefoot, and it seemed right to lead the rest here as the dalish hunter rather than the Herald. "Tarasyl'an Tel'as. Why does that sound so familiar?"

Solas interjected quickly. "I suggest we use the human name. Skyhold."

"Skyhold." It was a dump, but it was home.


	8. Defying Gravity

Chapter Seven: Defying Gravity

Writing was not second nature for Belathen Lavellan. As a huntress for the clan she was expected to provide sustenance, not record anything. Any of her interest in lore had been beside the point, and something she had almost completely stopped when Ellana left her. It was that lack more than anything else she felt when forced into her role as Inquisitor. Then again, the announcement had hardly been a surprise; Leliana had mentioned the possibility back in Haven, and while Bel had thought that would dissipate with Corypheus claims her as his enemy instead it only united the current forces in her support. Thank the Creators for small favors.

It did mean Bel was having to relearn the skill of written rhetoric. Verbally she was adaptable, but on paper her words just seemed to have trouble flowing properly. When possible Bel had Varric assist her given his artistry with the pen; when he was otherwise occupied, Dorian would try to help her muddle through, but with the trade tongue being more of a second language for him it had mixed results. Besides, the middle of the night was a wretched time to hunt anyone down. Just because she was awake and working didn't mean anyone else had to suffer.

Honestly, the last few months had been overly trying. She was so concentrated on her work it was almost impossible to think on anything else; truthfully, it felt like she got better rest on the road than at Skyhold, even after the extensive remodeling. Not that it was uncomfortable. She just didn't remember going to sleep last night, and tonight didn't look promising either.

Annexation of Crestwood. Why was this her responsibility? She had just taken care of the old mayor, and they wanted MORE from her? She looked at her desk, seeing the next request was about restitution for dragon attacks in the Western Expanse, and sighed. Apparently once she showed up in any area everything became her problem. Creators that got tiring. And hypocritical. A dalish elf as a ruler was impossible, but it seemed once you were marked by a prophet everyone wanted you to take care of their issues for them.

Sometimes Belathen wished she could write one of the responses she really desired...

'Dearest Empress Celene-

I am SO pleased to hear that you are having a fancy ball at Halamshiral. Sorry that I'm an elf and couldn't secure an invitation to somewhere that was promised to us generations ago because of my heritage, but thought I'd drop a friendly line and let you know someone is trying to kill you. Call it professional courtesy.

Additionally, I feel it is my duty to inform you that as the Herald of Andraste, the prophet has come to me in a dream and told me that the elvhen land of the Dirth (which you have been calling the Exalted Plains because... well, I don't really know why) should be returned. At your leisure of course.

Cheers! Inquisitor Belathen Lavellan'

The sheet of paper rested on her desk triumphantly, it's very presence making Bel feel better. She sighed, pushing back from the desk with a light smile. She looked out the window toward the balcony longingly, the interior feeling suddenly very confining after a lifetime in the woods.

Bel needed sleep, but she had no time for that. On the other hand she may as well take a few minutes to stave off the encroaching claustrophobia. She stepped towards the door, opening it swiftly and taking a hesitant step onto the balcony. She stretched her arms high, breathing in the free air as the panic left her. Belathen had just quelled her discomfort when the breeze swelled around her...

And in through the door of the balcony, around her desk- lifting the sarcastic, damning note up and out over the roof.

"Fenedhis!" Like a shot from her bow, the elven huntress slammed the door shut and jumped to follow the page. It led her on a difficult chase, over the top of the main hall and around the wall. She couldn't quite catch the note; she hopped into the tree branches, trying to catch up but completely missing the paper.

Finally, Belathen leapt up and scaled a tower after the page, her mind not at all processing where she was. She finally wrapped her hand around the page, feeling off-balance; her legs groaned beneath her, and she just barely managed to kneel onto the roof before she slid off. She followed that by slipping the note in her shirt and crawling up slowly, grabbing her bearings more with each reach...

At least until Bel saw the hole in the roof and realized where she was. She also heard the tell-tale sounds from below. Cullen's room. It sounded like this was a bad night, since he was awake. Kaffas. 'You could ask for help.' The voice in the back of her head was trying to be practical, but she didn't care to listen. Ever since Cullen had confided in her about coming off the lyrium she had been concerned about him, afraid for his health and safety. Better to wait.

Or it would have been if not for what she saw next.

Cullen was curled up in bed, as any reasonable person would be at this time of night. In the low light Belathen could see his arms moving as he stroked himself under the blanket, certain that he was alone- again, as any reasonable person would. Bel put a hand over her mouth to smother a sigh, also attempting to tear her eyes away. The first endeavor succeeded, the second did not, and Bel found herself glued to the sight. After all, she may have given up on garnering his attention but she still found the commander exceedingly attractive.

The blanket moved suddenly, and the elven woman found herself well rewarded with a gorgeous view. His cock was out and rigid, the hand guiding the movements strong and steady. There was a look on his face between concentration and relief; she couldn't help but smile at the expression at least a little, and her mind wandered. What if she was there? Would he accept her hand along with his, or have her watch like she did now? Perhaps he might find a different use for her altogether... She couldn't help but rub her thighs together, a soft pulsing between her legs taking over. It felt wonderfully elicit. If only there was a chance.

That was when the unthinkable happened.

Belathen was drawn closer, which unfortunately meant she was leaning over the edge of the hole in the roof a bit when Cullen released with a single name on his lips. Hers. Just hearing the word made her heart race, and her breath caught in her throat. That was when Belathen finally lost her grip and tumbled through that blasted hole and landed on the floor.

Bel wasn't sure sure exactly what happened then. Mostly because the fall, the lack of sleep, and the shock of the last few minutes finally caught up with her and she passed out.


	9. Forced Time Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for reading and staying with me.
> 
> This chapter has a moment straight from in-game. A lot of those moments still fit, and this one in particular is... necessary. So thank you again, and enjoy!

Chapter Eight: Forced Time Off

Belathen woke up to find herself in her own room. The sun poured in the window, announcing that it was already mid-day, and a swell of panic flooded her system. There was far too much she was obligated to do, so many things to set in motion, for her to have slept in. How anyone had allowed it she wasn't sure. She sat up, and immediately regretted it as all her muscles seemed to cry out in tandem.

What the hell?

"Inquisitor." Josephine was just walking in, shutting the door behind her. "I trust you're feeling better today."

Bel nodded. "Admittedly I'm a bit fuzzy on the details..." Her mind supplied some house images, and the elf's cheeks glowed a bit pink. "Though I have a good idea."

"Commander Cullen said it looked like you had collapsed while taking a brief walk. I thought it sounded ludicrous until he and I went over your schedule to clear the day." The Antivan looked exceedingly guilty. "I didn't realize how much we were putting on you. You have my apologies."

"I wasn't exactly complaining."

Josephine smiled lightly. "I wouldn't expect you to. It was brought to my attention that you have never been anything but accepting no matter how convoluted your position becomes. We... I should not have taken advantage."

Belathen took a deep breath, considering. It did make sense. "Yes, well, you're forgiven." Then the words clicked. "Does this mean I have the remainder of the day off?"

"It does."

With that, Belathen squirmed out of her covers with an uncomfortable crack as her body stretched. Apparently the fall had not treated her gently. Before she could even think to ask, however, Josephine was handing her a bottle with red liquid within. "After a full half-day, I figured you might be sore."

Fenedhis. She'd lost almost an entire day. "Ma'sarennas." At least she felt well rested.

The afternoon was calming. Bel stayed in her room much of it, enjoying a book Solas had loaned her on comparing elvhen myths with those of Tevinter. It was actually fascinating! If nothing else was in her mind she might have stayed lost in the volume, but there was one thing that definitely remained on the forefront. She had misjudged. Badly.

She needed to talk to Cullen.

Belathen waited until after the sun was coming down and dinner was being cleared before she made her way across the hall. She paused briefly to speak with her hahren, mostly because Solas had something of a calming effect on her and she desperately needed a center before crossing to Cullen.

He was still busy pouring over papers. Cullen might pause for necessities, unlike her, but he wasn't that much better than the Inquisitor's constant vigilance. Still, Bel caught the wavering as she walked in and up to his desk, the hand stalling before moving the report he had to a different stack. "I thought we could talk," Belathen noted with a smile. "Alone."

That got his attention, and before long they were stepping out onto the battlements together. Bel lagged a little behind, unsure where to even begin until her companion made the first awkward move.

"It's a nice day."

"What?" She couldn't help the bit of venom. The comment was almost insulting given how many issues they were dancing around right now.

"It's..." Cullen paused, seeming to think better of repeating the blunder. "There's something you wished to discuss?"

"Certainly not the weather."

"I assumed that much." Some odd mixture of sadness and resolve flooded into his words at that point, and Bel felt her heart hammer as he admitted, "I can't say I haven't wondered what I was would say to you in this kind of situation."

"What's stopping you?"

"You're the inquisitor. We're at war, and... I didn't think it was possible."

Which explained why he had always been so quiet. That, more than anything, made sense. Cullen had been fighting himself, not her. It was a relief. Somehow, the previous night was unimportant in the light of one absolute truth. "And yet I'm still here." Bel knew how to keep the words warm, inviting, but that didn't matter either. She settled for reassuring.

"So you are. It seems to much to ask..." Now it was Cullen's turn to turn on the invitation, to make something sound like a suggestion instead of a simple thought. "...but I want to."

Belathen felt her heart hammering when he leaned in, and immediately leaned against the wall just to keep her bearings. The cool stonework kept her grounded against the scent of him, and the warmth of his breath as he pressed in. This was real, Bel realized. This was happening. Someone she had immediately fallen for, who she cared for, actually returned her affections and was about to...

"Commander. You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana's report."

What? "What?"

"Sister Leliana's report? You wanted it delivered without delay?" Bel rolled her eyes. This was that meddling red-head's doing. Leliana knew everything that happened in Skyhold's walls after all, and sending a scout to interrupt seemed her style of prank. What was it with her fellow archers? At least the poor man seemed to take a hint from the Commander's glare. "Or... to your office. Right."

Even as the man left, Bel sighed. The moment was evaporated into thin air. Maybe it really had been to much to ask for. "If you need to..." The thought was plucked from her lips by Cullen as he pulled her in for a crashing, almost desperate kiss. That scent... she quite suddenly placed the fact that he smelled faintly of Andraste's Grace under the musky, woodsy scent she had originally caught. It was an apt thing to catch clinging on to him. Then, as suddenly as it started, the kiss stopped.

"I'm sorry. That was... really nice."

Belathen smiled, a snarky comment on her lips. He looked so unsure, embarrassed, and there was only so much that she could do to reassure. Treating this as normal, as acceptable, was a great start. "I believe that was a kiss," Bel chuckled, "but I can't be sure. It's all a blur." The elf was rewarded by a laugh for her efforts. It was hesitant, but no longer uncertain; this laugh was one that came about because her joke was bad. "Yes, well..." They stayed looking at each other for a minute before resolve crashed down again and they wound up wrapped up in another kiss. Oh yes, this was going to become MUCH more common.


	10. About Your Father

Chapter Nine: About Your Father

Belathen was calmly leaning against the wall next to the door of the bar in Redcliffe, glad she had sent Bull and Cassandra to check out the campsite and prepare for the next part of their day. The words were mostly muffled but she could hear a snippet here and there between the two Tevinter men. She had been struck by how similarly they carried themselves, and there was no doubt Halward was Dorian's father just by looking at him, but it seemed Dorian had taken the best parts of his upbringing and left most of the rest. Like a truly good son, the Tevinter man she had painfully fallen for was a reflection of who his father could have become, should have become. Bel felt for Dorian, really. Even as she felt a slight bit of heartbreak.

'You can't win them all, asha'eir' she reminded herself, letting her mind slide into the days with Cullen before heading out here to the Hinterlands. Their kisses were no longer secretive, his hands willing to wander, and every moment brought with it the familiar headiness of true love. She had found her first; she knew that intrinsically, her heart crying out. Whatever he wanted she would accept. Bel couldn't help her tendency to feel those tendrils reach again, but did her level best to ignore. At least she knew two things for certain now. A part of Cullen's heart was hers, and she had no chance with Dorian.

Dorian stepped out of the tavern alone. He put a hand on his friend's shoulder and simply said, "Thank you."

"It was no problem," Bel assured.

"I doubt that. I know there is little left in the area, and this was mostly for my benefit."

"Mostly," she admitted with a shrug. "You give a lot to the Inquisition; it's only right that I... that WE do our part for you in turn."

"I've never asked for anything from you."

"You don't have to, lethallin." The word was out in the air now, and both paused in confusion for completely different reasons. For Bel, it was about the context of the word. Falon she had expected, because he was a friend in the truest sense of the word. Even if she had halted the tendency to take him on her excursions (mostly for Cullen's benefit, since the Commander's eye liked to wander to the mage), the time they did share was precious to her. Dorian made her laugh even while the world was burning around them, and that was enough.

Belathen hated herself now for falling for him. It felt like a betrayal.

But lethallin..?

"That is not a word I am accustomed to, little snowdrop. Care to enlighten me?"

"It means clan-mate." As soon as she said that, it made sense. "It means I see you as my family. Brother, I suppose the Fereldans would say. Consider it a vote of confidence Dorian."

The Tevinter paused, something akin to a smile tipping at the corner of his lips. "I understand. Thank you." Then, quite suddenly, he got a bit more somber. "There really isn't an equivalent in Tevene, unfortunately. Right now I wish there was."

"That isn't..."

"The only word available would indicate that my family accepted you in as well," he continued. "I have to admit that the temptation is too strong to resist." With that, Dorian raised a hand to ruffle her hair with a chuckle. "Besides, I always wanted a little sister. Sora."

Bel groaned, realizing how quickly this was going to get on her nerves. "Dorian. Stop."

"Hmm." In a surprisingly rapid movement, he grabbed her and started to tickle mercilessly. "I don't think so."

"Merciless wretch!" It was hard to sound serious while in a fit of giggles. But it was good to see him laughing so soon after the meeting with Halward. 

When she got too quick and slid through his fingers, Dorian seemed to pause and consider her a moment. "I suppose however I should apologize if I was too forward with my attention early on."

Belathen shook her head, returning and taking his hand. "Never apologize for who you are, lethallin, or even who you seem to be. I don't care if you favor men, even if you find yourself flirting with me by reflex." He still seemed uncomfortable, unsure. "You don't believe you can actually be yourself, do you?"

"The thought never crossed my mind."

Maybe Halward Pavus was worse that Bel thought. The elf shook her head, frowning. She definitely understood what happened when there were too many expectations, too much thrown on your shoulders. There was no need for that sort of game to perpetuate itself.

"Will killing something large and growling help get your mind off the mind-trip?"

"It just might."

Iron Bull at least would be pleased to fight the dragon. And if it helped Dorian let off steam after meeting with his father, all the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra geeky points to anyone who caught the reference in the title!


	11. Two Make One Prince Charming

Chapter Ten: Two Make One Prince Charming

Belathen absolutely hated the palace. It didn't stop her from becoming the darling of the courts unfortunately, but that is sometimes how these things went. At least Florianne was definitively dead, and nobody could ask her to handle the sociopolitical repercussions of that decision. Celene would have to handle the countess' death on her own. Bel almost regretted letting Josephine talk her into coming here first. She hated politics, and hypocritical politics more than all.

That was then. Now Bel was just taking a moment on the balcony to breathe. She closed her eyes, willing the rest of the world away. As she felt the breeze wrap around her Bel could almost imagine the distant past, when these lands would have been elvhen. It must have been glorious.

Josephine would be along soon. Belathen knew that, almost dreaded it. When the rustle of the drapes was unmistakeable she was certain that it was her diplomatic advisor coming to claim her time. Instead she turned to see Dorian approaching, almost chuckling at her.

"Did you try the ham that tastes of despair? It was fascinating."

"Didn't have much time for food or enjoyment," Bel noted. "Though I could draw you a blueprint of this place."

"I imagine you could." He stepped up, leaning on the rail beside her. "You know there was an ancient dowager looking for you. Said she had three good sons and a dozen daughters you could have your pick from. I told her I thought you were still talking with the Empress' spymistress. You can thank me now or later, at your leisure."

Belathen could barely even roll her eyes at that. "I'm out of thanks for the moment, lethallin. Maybe later."

The comment got a tisk and a frown. "You seem lost in thought, sora. But that's not right! You saved the day... literally! The DAY is SAVED. Why no celebration?"

Bel shrugged. "I guess it doesn't feel like much worth celebrating." She looked around to ensure they were alone before leaning in conspiratorially to whisper, "If I ever get a chance to just let some beast reign destruction on Orlais, I might take it. I hate this place."

"You aren't alone, snowdrop."

Bel looked into the sky to see the stars, eyes tracing some of the constellations she was beginning to get familiar with, when an idea hit her. "You love a scandal and I need a distraction," she announced, reaching her hand to him. "Dance with me."

Dorian looked at her as if she had grown a second head. "Waltzing about with the evil Tevinter magister? That's a bit more to bite off than I think you want to chew."

Belathen shook her head. "How could you know my mind, Dorian? I'm sure you're aware of what this palace represents to my people. As far as I'm concerned these shem are the trespassers and I can do whatever I like."

Dorian smiled widely at that, giving a slight mocking bow. "As you wish, Inquisitor." This was followed by a wink as he grabbed her arm and led her into the main room, taking a delightful turn on the dance floor to the surprised looks and soft tisks of the ballroom.

"You're absolutely wicked you know."

"Then it serves the old coots right for keeping Cullen so long."

The duo was laughing as they moved about the room, Dorian a strong guide to Bel's flexible footwork. Neither of them noticed the eyes of the room focussed on them, not in shock but simply due to the fact that the view commanded attention. Even Cullen, just through with his conversation (which he was DEFINITELY going to blame Belathen for) had to pause and smile at he fact neither of them seemed to even register the rest of the room before he approached.

"Excuse me, but I thought I might cut in."

Bel had a wicked smile as she nodded. "Don't let me stop you," she assured, stepping away and handing the mage off to her commander before heading back to the balcony, sharing a conspiratorial yet very politically charged nod with Celene's arcane advisor as she left the men to their dance. Later she would have her own moment with Cullen, and with him she could admit how tiring the entire ordeal was. But for now the giggles from Celene's handmaidens and the fact that with Dorian leading Cullen looked competent on the dance floor was enough to feel like something was actually accomplished.


	12. Checkmate

Chapter Eleven: Checkmate

When Belathen was at Skyhold, Cullen always did his best to keep his eyes towards her. Maker knows that one woman was enough for him, and since she was the Inquisitor besides there was no use in considering anything more. It would feel gluttonous.

When Bel was NOT home however things could be a bit more interesting. Mostly because his primary chess partner happened to be the Inquisitor's obvious best friend. And that best friend happened to be the overly handsome Tevinter mage. The one who made everything all upended and strange to the Commander. Dorian, who tried to be considerate but still couldn't help but flirt with the man his best friend loved. And it was driving both men more than a little bit crazy.

"Care for a bit of an interesting challenge today, Rutherford?" Dorian asked, setting the board for their weekly afternoon game.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Simultaneous turns, Queen capture- not King."

Cullen considered the terms. "I don't care to be at a disadvantage. Have you done this before?"

"Solas was talking about it. It's an elvhen variant," the Tevinter admitted. "I'm sure you're quick enough to catch on."

"Appealing to my vanity was unnecessary. I'll give it a try."

The game started out moving faster than their usual games, both men fully concentrated on the task for a while.

"I know your tactics," Dorian noted halfway, stretching. "I'm going to beat you."

"Showing off your form isn't going to distract me, Pavus." Cullen moved deliberately, taking one of his opponent's pieces as Dorian pushed his King forward.

"Perish the thought. Showing off to you is no fun; it never works"

"It doesn't?" Cullen asked in surprise. "You obviously aren't trying hard enough."

"Lost cause, I'm afraid. Besides, I have no way to compete with our little snowdrop."

Cullen lifted his head, one eyebrow raised. "Our snowdrop?"

"She's my sora. Of course I assert some claim." Dorian's eyes surveyed the board, his hand lifting towards the pieces. "Does that bother you?"

"Not at all," Cullen noted, turning away a bit. This was one thing he hadn't discussed with the Inquisitor at all, considering it a bit early- and really it didn't matter, since whatever she desired he would hold to- but he had always been comfortable with the idea of more than one lover. There was even a time he had thought of Alistair and Amell in equal measure... and Andraste's mercy it was happening again. If that meant sharing Bel, he wouldn't mind, but truthfully Cullen had no idea if she would even entertain the thought.

Probably best to drop that line of thought.

"Hmm. So the Commander isn't possessive."

"As if anyone could try to actually possess Bel," he chuckled, then paused. "That may well be both a literal and figurative impossibility."

"I'm sure one could find enough rope," Dorian quipped. "Move."

The challenge of a different mindset proved enough to make the game run slower, and the sun was falling by the time both men glare at the mostly empty board. They managed to both sigh in tandem, and keep staring as if doing so would change the outcome.

"The simultaneous move rule has made this impossible to win."

"For either of us."

Cullen moved to pick up the pieces. "It is an odd coincidence."

"Indeed."

Because the two men had each other in a perfect check, and would inevitably capture each other's Queen in the same move. If Solas was there, he would have probably tried to memorize the moves that had just taken place, as it has once been considered nigh impossible as an outcome.


	13. Enasalin

Chapter Twelve: Enasalin

Inquisitor Lavellan had just made it down the steps from Adamant when Cullen caught her expression and cursed inwardly. She was steady enough on her feet certainly, but there was no glimmer in her eyes to speak of. Her companions seemed quite distracted themselves, tending to their own uncertainty, so likely none of them even noticed how flat she seemed. It seemed unfair that she should have no one with her that took the extra time to watch for her well-being, but right now that was beside the point. She was here, and she was in need of him.

Cullen usually was very careful about decorum, but he didn't mind letting it slip in this moment. He rushed up to Bel, taking her hands in his, and pulled her away from the crowd. It almost broke through the glassiness in her expression, though even that didn't fall until minutes later when he had gotten her back into the tent he'd been using at the camp. Her hands were moving automatically alongside one minute, unbuckling the top layer of her armor, and shaking the next.

"I have you," Cullen assured, still guiding her hand until the heaviest parts were off. As he did, he felt her breathing come more sudden, more faltering. "I promise."

Memory provided Cullen with the knowledge of what was about to happen. Under normal circumstances he would have never brought Bel here, into his own area, but she was sharing with Cassandra right now and there was nobody else who could see this. Who SHOULD see this. Even the Seeker. He wasn't at all surprised when Bel's legs suddenly faltered, instead just catching her before she could hit the ground.

"What..?" Belathen sounded breathless, shaken. And honestly, she probably was. She couldn't even finish the sentence, words leaving her completely.

"Panic. Adrenaline." Slowly, he slid to the ground with her in hand, wrapping his arms around her and letting her rest against him. "You're safe. Just let it pass, and remember to keep breathing."

Belathen didn't take long to regain her composure, only a few minutes; Cullen made sure to keep her tightly against him during that time, allowing her to use him as a steady anchor until she was back in control. When the panic had finally passed, the tension leaving her in what seemed to be a single rush, it seemed to take her energy as well. Even so, she managed to grab for one of his hands and squeeze.

"How did you know?"

"Because I've been where you are, and there is no amount of time that will pass to make it just disappear into nothingness."

Bel nodded slightly. "Kinloch."

"Kinloch," Cullen confirmed, resting his chin on her head. "Honestly, it's a wonder this didn't happen sooner."

"I suppose so," Bel sighed, yawning heavily. "Ne eth'ara, ma Cu'len."

"I hope that is a compliment."

"It is," she whispered. "I should probably..."

"Stay here tonight." Cullen's voice was stronger than it should have been, and the suggestion surprised him. "I just mean... I'll be right here, and I can..."

"I can't argue," Belathen admitted. "Cassandra snores."

Meanwhile, across the camp, Cassandra had noticed Cullen taking Bel with him and was confident she would have the tent to herself for the night. Usually she would bring out her copy of Swords and Shields, but after the day they had all had...

When she heard the pacing outside the flap, she pulled it open and glared. The Iron Bull was in fact walking in a straight line back and forth in front, seemingly unsure what he was doing. The Seeker cleared her throat, capturing his attention and a sheepish look.

"In or out?"

Bull blinked, cocking his large head and glaring. "What?"

"I have no wish for games. In or out?"

"What happened to 'never going to happen'?"

"I don't think I have to explain the finer points of my mental state to you. So?"

The Iron Bull took a deep breath. "In. Definitely in."


	14. Not Moving On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you kindly please remember the rating of our tale? We have been cute and fluffy so long... But now we come to that which earns said rating.
> 
> Enjoy the first taste of the fun stuff (since the prologue).

Chapter Thirteen: Not Moving On

Belathen had lightened her workload for the moment. She had to. The nightmares kept her up anyway, and heading into the field constantly exhausted sounded like suicide. It was two weeks, but those weeks were precious. And a new element injected itself into her evenings: sleeping with Cullen. As in sharing a bed. It felt surprisingly natural since that first night after Adamant...

Adamant, where she had left a good man to die. A man who, Creators forgive her, made her think of Cullen. Warden Alistair had died too young, and she knew that did hurt Cullen. The former Templar admitted they had been good friends, and Bel understood why- in many ways they were cut from the same cloth, kindness and honor their deepest traits. The realization hurt her, made the memories harder, even as Cullen forgave her. Supported her. Loved her, for making the hard choice.

Truthfully, it was a miracle his kindness didn't break her.

Cullen's office became Belathen's nightly haunt. Of course most of Skyhold suspected there was far more than sleep going on, but really... there wasn't. Not that she didn't want it, or he didn't want it- waking up with his hardness against her back was a common enough experience- but it never seemed quite right.

Bel smiled as she crossed again, the cool metal of a pendant made from the coin he'd given under her shirt against her breast. Tonight would likely be the same story, and yet it seemed so good she didn't mind in the slightest. She waited patiently by the door as he finished his last meeting of the day, unable to keep her eyes off him. It didn't take long for Cullen to notice her there, and his demeanor changed quickly- not to mention how it ended the meeting.

Cullen looked tired as he shut the door tonight, sighing. "There's always something more, isn't there?"

"Wishing we were somewhere else?" There was just enough emphasis on 'we' for him to know she was with him, would be with him, no matter what else came.

Surprisingly, he simply chuckled as he shook his head. "I barely found time to get away before." Finished, he turned back to the desk with a simple beckon for her to follow as he continued. "The war won't last forever. When it started, I hadn't considered much beyond our survival, but things are different now."

When he turned, Bel could see that hint of vulnerability. It made her realize this conversation was more serious than it first seemed, and she came forward to meet him while aiming for the heart of the discussion. "What do you mean?"

"I find myself wondering what will happen after. When this is over, I don't want to move on." He stalled, obviously trying to figure out how to say whatever feeling he was wrestling, and Bel found her heart racing, wondering if this was where he finally broke her heart. It was entirely possible this was his way of saying he wanted to stay with the Inquisition and she should return to just being the Inquisitor. Then he finished the thought with, "Not from you." Belathen bit back the comment of 'oh is that all' and let him finish. "But I don't know what you... that is, if you..."

There would be time, later, to remind Cullen that he was her anchor, that everything they had shared had only served to pull them closer together. Maybe even to tell him about how she had found herself drawn to him from the start. For now, though, she just stopped the spiral of uncertainty by grabbing his hand. "Cu'len," she sighed, "do you need to ask?"

When he moved to face her, Belathen found herself pushed onto the small clear spot on his desk, keenly aware that if she moved even an inch something was going to topple. Cullen was fastidious, and the last thing she wanted was to make a mess, so she desperately scooted to try avoiding the likely disaster. Even so, he pushed her a bit further, acknowledging her admission with a simple, "I suppose not. I..."

That last shove was too much. Her hand hit a bottle, and the bottle went crashing down. Belathen looked to where it had shattered on the floor, embarrassment at the apparent clumsiness crossing her mind as she turned back to meet Cullen's eyes. She started to open her mouth to apologize when she caught the expression on his face. Instead of admonishing or laughing, he looked... not feral, but definitely passionate.

The movement with which Cullen cleared the desk was commendably fluid. Belathen would have taken the time to admire it had he not followed it up by taking her by the shoulders and pushing her down onto the now very clean top before the pages had even had a chance to hit the ground. There was something predatory in the movements, and he was very much the hunter in this moment. Not that Bel minded, especially when he was forcing her back and her heart hammered in expectation.

There was a very strong, demanding kiss, and then his hands were moving down under her shirt. "Creators, Cu'len, please..."

Before she could plead once more, he had taken over her mouth again- but more importantly, had slid to her back and undone the bit of cloth that served to keep her breasts supported. One hand replaced it with a solid squeeze, one that got a true gasp from her lips.

Belathen whimpered a bit, her hands raising to settle in the fur at the top of his coat as she pouted softly. "Ladies first," he breathed into her ear, already working on the tunic buttons that would unveil her top entirely. All she could do was shake her head.

"You are far too overdressed for what you're intending, commander."

"I suppose that's true," he admitted, seeming hesitant as he sat up and started working on his own clothing. Belathen reached up, helping undo what she could until he was completely topless. "Better?"

"It's a start," Bel managed, unable to stop staring. It was obvious he stayed in top form, and while situations like this may not be his primary focus in training it definitely was an added benefit. She reached up, trying to latch on and pull him down, but found the motion overtaken when he instead took initiative and finished pulling the shirt from under her. His eyes paused a moment, a finger slipping to caress the medallion with a bright smile.

Bel should have been paying attention elsewhere it seemed; she was so focused on his hands and expressions that she completely missed his leg sneaking up between hers. Never before had she considered pants such a hindrance (ok, there was that one time, when Ellie had been playing with fire magic...)... but now she had to bite back a curse to their existence. Her eyes must have relayed the frustration, because in response...

Cullen rubbed against them harder, and all she could do was moan in slight displeasure. "I take it," he chuckled, "that stopping now is out of the question."

"You stop now and I will go back to merciless teasing."

"Don't I get a turn at that?"

Fear. The only way to describe the sensation that pulsed through her was fear, and maybe horror at the realization he actually would be completely justified in getting payback for those months at Haven. "I have told you that I love you," she reminded sweetly, "yes?"

"I seem to remember something to that effect." With that, he leaned in, brushing the edge of her valleslin with one hand before whispering directly in her ear, "I've also been waiting a long time for this." The need in his tone and the warmth of his breath collected, Bel's back arching ever so slightly with no way to stop the motion. Her body was only stopped by Cullen, whose previous attentions now turned to her pants.

"Cullen?"

"Yes?"

"Windows."

The reminder got him to pause, and he quickly pulled off of her. "Upstairs," he suggested.

"Better."

Once in the slightly more secure locale, the two stopped to watch each other finish disrobing. Bel had seen Cullen in part before, but closer she could see much better. Her attention didn't stay on his cock for long though, since as soon as her pants hit the floor she heard a quick inhale from her partner. She looked up to see his eyes still roaming, taking in all of her...

"Maker's breath but you're beautiful," he gasped, seemingly afraid to move.

"I'm fairly ordinary, actually," Bel protested. She knew she had never been the prettiest in the clan, competence her key to desirability, and in the wider world she had seen human women much fairer than she was. Yet here Cullen had fully stopped, captivated; she blushed at the attention, moving forward to break whatever spell had taken over.

"You don't even know," he sighed happily, a smile taking over. "How did I get this lucky?"

"Magic. Chance. Faith." Bel reached down as she met him, taking hold of his member gently and starting to work him lightly. "Maybe it's just that you're a good man."

"Nobody is this good," he whispered, relishing the attention a moment before pulling both of them to the bed and maneuvering to take some control again. Bel still held him in her hand, but now he had the uppermost position and was able to return the favor by fingering her clit. The attention got her throbbing almost as much as the cock in her hand.

It had been a long time for either of them, and many weeks of building to this moment, so there was no surprise when neither of them could hold out for long; they still managed to reach climax together, buried in each other's shoulder as the moment flooded. It also meant they were pent up enough to continue to a second shortly after. What they had missed out on over the past months would be made up for in spades.


	15. The Lion

Chapter Fourteen: The Lion

Belathen was quite pleased to be in her quarters, quietly. Diplomatic issues had kept her in Skyhold, much to the pleasure of both her and her Commander. Right now she was starting through a few of the papers on her desk, struggling through some of the more flowery language in the missives from Orlais with a sigh. She was doing this on the bed, pages sprawled around her side, while Cullen leaned against her comfortably reading a lengthy report of his own. This lasted until a scratch sounded at the balcony door, causing the commander to shoot upright.

Bel looked at the door and sighed. "I have it." She quickly uncrossed her legs and moved to the door, opening it a crack. "Garas, da'cul," she said, and shortly after a small orange pile of fluff entered the Inquisitor's quarters, rubbing against her leg before stretching and leaping onto the bed next to Cullen. The small cat meowed at the Commander, sniffed, then curled up in a ball on Bel's pillow.

Cullen watched, stunned, as the Inquisitor then returned. She looked at the cat, already purring on the pillow, and shook her head. "Well," she sighed, "hope you don't mind sharing the bed." She took her page and curled back in, this time on her stomach, using her arms to prop her up so that she didn't disturb the new visitor.

"I didn't know you had a cat," Cullen noted, returning to his own place and reading.

"I don't. Da'cul came with the room. He was here when I first walked in, and keeps returning. Personally I think he just likes the warmth."

"That sounds familiar." Cullen reached one hand out, scratching the feline under the chin. "I have to ask... I take it his name is elvish?"

"Da'cul? Yes. Little lion."

"That's... apt."

The two sat quietly reading for a while, the cat's purring the only sound breaking it. Then, finally...

"When you lapse into elvhen, I can't help but notice..."

Bel blushed. "Ah... Yes. Cu'len. I wondered if you'd caught it."

"Does it mean anything? I rather think it does."

"Err... yes." Her cheeks had to be the color of the markings on them, she was sure. This was one explanation she wished could have been kept secret. "I suppose the best translation is... well... lion cub."

There was a beat. Even the cat went silent. Finally, Cullen managed to ask, "Please tell me you're joking."

"No! I swear it's the truth."

"That explains so much." He pushed the cat, taking over the pillow and pulling Bel up towards him. "I'm no cub."

"No, you're not."

"I am well aware most men would be appreciative of hearing their lover call their name," he started, red coloring his cheeks, "but in this case..."

"Hmm. Are you asking for a nickname, Cu'len?" she teased lightly, sitting up to run her fingers against his arm. "So many to choose from, but most men don't get to pick you know."

He had a pleasing look in his eyes. "Bel."

"Oh alright. You know, most dalish would just go with something standard: ma lath, ma vhenan. They never held much... power to me," Belathen admitted. "It has to come from the heart."

Cullen was quiet at that, his hand idly stroking her hair. "If it's too much trouble..."

"Do you know what I thought, when I first saw you?" Her voice was subdued, but cutting. It stalled Cullen, and all he could do was shake his head. "I had been petrified up to that point, but it evaporated. I knew we were going to make it. Enasalin'adas. It... hasn't left me since."

"Enasalin?"

"Victory." Belathen gathered her pages swiftly, setting them aside. "That is what you are. Ma enasalin. So long as I have you, I know we will prevail."

The report quite suddenly landed on the floor by the bed, and Cullen was just as quickly on top of Belathen in a rush of emotion. "That is a tall order which I promise to try and live up to."

"You always do."

The cat disappeared under the bed for the rest of that late summer evening, offended by the goings-on above him. When it was over however he happily leapt back onto the cushy mattress and in between the sleeping couple, purring. This was, to the cat, more than acceptable.


	16. All Heat, No Flash

Chapter Fifteen: All Heat, No Flash

It must have been some Tevinter magister who started the rumor that mages were immune to most common illnesses. It was completely and utterly false of course; there was no spell among any school of magic that could cure a common cold, for example, or several of the other basic ways of simply being sick that could occur. While Dorian had been training his spirit magic (because really, what kind of archer winds up consistently in front of her companions?), it seemed to have no effect on the fact that he was rather capable of winding up under the weather.

It didn't seem fair.

Dorian did his best to keep up appearances. It wouldn't do to be seen as the weak Tevinter mage after all, and even after the Inquisitor's impressive display against Mother Giselle he did not care to press his luck with the general public at Skyhold. Honestly he was starting to consider begging to go with Bel, once he had better control over the magic she needed in the field... and as soon as he was well enough, of course. The plans within plans kept turning over, and before the man had even realized he was no longer actually reading the book in his hand he was dropping off into sleep.

"Dorian?" The voice that dragged him from rest was familiar, but completely out of place. "Dorian, what's..?" The next minute, a hand hit his skin. It was rough, but not unpleasant, and that brief contact was enough to actually rouse him a bit, especially when it was followed up by that same person pressing the back of a hand to his forehead. The sensation was strange; the skin contact was rough, but not unpleasant. Dorian fought to open his eyes...

"Commander. What brings you here?"

"You missed our game." Cullen frowned. "And now I see why. You're burning up." The blonde male pulled his hand away, apparently with some reluctance. "I doubt this is the most comfortable place in Skyhold right now."

Dorian shrugged, surprised to feel as though the motion took effort. "It's as good a place as any."

Cullen had the audacity to look displeased at the answer. "Dorian, this is going to get worse. Trying to weather an illness is utter nonsense."

"I suppose..." Dorian started to pull himself up, but a wave of light-headedness stopped the movement and he settled back down. "In a minute, then."

Cullen nodded understanding, leaning against a bookcase. "I'll wait with you."

"There's no need for that."

"Maybe I just want to."

"Suit yourself."

Dorian sighed as he worked to collect himself. While he appreciated the thoughtfulness, Cullen's presence was proving a distraction rather than a help. The other man was a very commanding presence and the sense of him right there was counterproductive.

It wasn't that Dorian was trying to be a bad person. Quite the contrary, he wanted nothing more than to keep his emotions under control, but it was not the easiest thing when one of the friends he had made was so... exceedingly attractive. Cullen wouldn't have been considered classically handsome by Tevinter standards- he favored the avvar side of his southern heritage a bit too much for that- but the man was definitely noticeably charming. Were Dorian a lesser man...

It had been a companionable silence, but Cullen suddenly shifted and it felt oddly awkward. "I take it this is a new experience, then?" Dorian asked. "Finding a sick mage hiding in a library."

Cullen chuckled at that. "Hardly. Templars were charged with watching out for those assigned to them. I've had my share of headstrong magicians who thought they had something to prove."

"So Templar training included care of sick mages? That must have been disconcerting." When Cullen frowned, Dorian backpedalled quickly. "It's not my affair. Sorry."

"No. It's just..." The Commander sighed, looking around the thankfully deserted room. "Bel understands me a little too well sometimes. I don't really talk things out with her as much, so it's strange to actually discuss that part of my past."

"Better off forgotten?"

"In some cases. Mostly I simply don't dwell on it."

"Even the good parts?"

"There... weren't nearly enough of those."

There was something about that nervous twitch and the way the Commander instinctively reached for that spot on the back of his neck. Dorian pushed it away. "I apologize for making you uncomfortable."

"There is no need. I simply... am not proud of the man that time made me."

Dorian found himself surprised. "The man you are now doesn't seem so bad. If there is one thing my father taught me it is that our experiences are what make us who we are. Granted, he made me learn that the hard way..."

Cullen chuckled at that, a smile coming to his face as he reached a hand to the mage. "Even so, I think we could both do with a little less drama."

Dorian took the offer of support, steadying himself as he managed to take to his feet. "This whole Inquisition business seems counterproductive to that goal. Especially when you're in bed with the Inquisitor!"

Cullen shook his head in amusement. "I suppose that is true. Though I prefer that to the alternative."

Dorian squashed his immediate response of jealousy at that. He remembered how Cullen had first seemed to respond favorably to the slight innuendos, and to be honest as they'd become friendly Dorian could see the commander as someone he would have been happy with. Unfortunately by then Cullen had been making doe-eyes at Bel, and the Tevinter male knew when he was outclassed. Belathen was the Inquisitor after all!

"Dorian? I asked if you felt alright getting to your room."

"Hmm? Oh, quite alright."

Cullen glared. "I have business to attend to anyway. Let me walk with you, at least."

"Nobody is stopping you." Even if he probably should.

It isn't that Dorian found himself a bad person. In fact, almost everything the rest of the Inquisitor's inner circle thought they knew about him was wrong- not to mention he had no intention of hurting the two best friends he had left in the world. Yet the Iron Bull had made what seemed to be one astute observation. Dorian Pavus was indeed inclined to do the forbidden. Like fall for his best friend's lover. And it wasn't just the illness- no, Dorian definitely was going to blame this on his damned nature. There should be more control than this. There should be...

The walk to Dorian's room was slow, and quite hushed as they went through to the small space he had taken for himself in a corner of Skyhold. When they paused at the door, Dorian stalled before reaching for the doorknob. As it clicked open, he turned to Cullen with a small smile of appreciation. "This is me."

Cullen hesitated, then reached for Dorian's hand. It was a surprisingly intimate gesture for the situation, and carefully done. "Take care of yourself. I fully expect to reschedule our match when you feel up to it."

"I wouldn't miss it."

It was completely by impulse and completely ill-advised, but Cullen was the first one to lean in. They were a hair's-breadth away, noses almost touching, when Dorian snapped out of it and turned his head. That simply caused a soft, gentle kiss to wind up deposited on the younger man's cheek, and quite suddenly the flush was not just from getting sick.

"I'm sorry," Cullen fumbled. "I have no idea what came over me."

Dorian tried to put the racing of his heart down to the randomness of the situation and feeling under the weather as opposed to the small infatuation with Commander Cullen. "Chalk it up to the late hour, Commander."

"I..."

The last thing Dorian wanted was an excuse. He didn't even want a confession. He hurried in and shut the door quickly, actually scared of what might happen if he did anything else. Between this blasted cold he had contracted and the barely avoided debacle, this was shaping up to be a night for a headache. Luckily, as soon as he laid down on the bed he fell back asleep, and the headache didn't have time to manifest.


	17. More Than You Bargained For

"Inquisitor! We weren't expecting you so soon."

Belathen managed a small smile at the scout watching Skyhold's outer defenses. She had been in the Emprisse de Lion for a week, and already it was her least favorite place in Thedas. She had wanted to help, to take her time and make a difference there, but between the cold and the blasted influence of that damned red lyrium on the anchor she was getting nowhere. It was Solas who finally determined they needed to get back, claiming he needed to do research on the anchor's reaction; Belathen recognized a flimsy excuse when she heard one, but had been in no condition to protest.

"Tactical requirement," Bel told the scout.

"I'll get the Commander..."

"No!" Belathen didn't mean to sound panicked at the suggestion, but thinking on Cullen suddenly made her feel dizzy and a bit nauseous. "That is, I know what time it is. Let him sleep, and I'll talk with him tomorrow."

"But..."

"I agree with the Inquisitor," Solas offered, coming up beside her and putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "The hour is ridiculous. Anything can hold until the morning."

"Of course."

The quartet continued on their way across the bridge home, Solas staying right at the Inquisitor's side. "Thank you, hahren."

"Think nothing of it, lethallan."

It wasn't nothing, but the huntress could hardly argue the point. She made the quickest route to her quarters, shut the door, and desperately tried to forget the last two weeks. Unfortunately even going through her most trusted exercises in centering her mind proved fruitless...

It came back to the same image. Cullen, eyes red with the forced addition of the red lyrium, alongside the preening hypocrite Mother Giselle. The anchor had pulled the song of the damned stuff and warped it, twisting the memory into the nightmare. The chantry wench questioning her friendship with Dorian dissolved into...

No. Bel shook her head vigorously, trying to push the thought out. Even so she found herself shivering with a chill that wasn't actually in the room. It was nothing but a bad dream, a nightmare; her fears had matured, and the red lyrium seemed to continuously try to corrupt the anchor- and as a side effect messed with her head. Solas had tried to keep it subdued, but it was just short of pointless. Away from that place she could think more clearly, but it didn't stop her from being shaken by the false memory of having to stand between the men she could fully admit she loved... even if one was, blessedly, clueless.

Catching her breath, Belathen opened the door to the exterior balcony. Da'cul walked in circles around her feet, trying to be comforting, but there was only so much a cat could do...

It was while Bel was stooping to pet the creature she heard a tentative knock on the door. Given the hour, nobody should be awake; grumbling, Belathen promised herself that if that scout had told Cullen they had returned she was going to make sure he found an arrow in his bed. She opened the door the smallest bit, her foot keeping it mostly shut until she saw who it was and surprise took over.

"Dorian? What are you doing here?"

The mage shrugged. "I'm not really sure. Solas saw the light in my little alcove and suggested I should see you." Then, with a blink, Dorian added, "Sorry for saying sora, but you look... terrible." When she didn't move or speak, he sighed. "Can I come in?"

Bel nodded and stepped back. "Solas overstepped," she explained, "but since you're here..."

Dorian shut the door quickly and looked over the elvhen woman more closely. "What happened?"

Bel shook her head. She wasn't interested in saying it out loud, making it more real. Yet seeing Dorian there, not only alive but definitely in one piece, calmed the fear she'd carried from the edge of the Frostbacks. "It's nothing," she tried to assure.

"I have the distinct feeling that you're lying, my dear little snowdrop. When did you last get some sleep?"

"I've been sleeping, Dorian."

"More than two hours at a time?"

"That's... beside the point." Three nights wasn't that long, really. She's been getting a little rest when they made camp for the evening. "Besides, you were up at this Creators-forsaken hour."

"I wasn't well and spent the last two days sleeping and hiding from the world," Dorian chided. "You have no such excuse."

Bel had it. She tossed herself into the bed, whimpering. "For most of the week before that I kept watching Cullen kill you," she finally admitted. "Is that good enough reason why I've been restless?"

That comment got Dorian to pause before he shifted uncomfortably. "That is a better excuse than I anticipated."

"I'm so glad you approve." The mockery in her tone was underscored by a flying pillow.

"Would it help to know that nothing even remotely indicative of hostility happened while you were away?"

"Not really." Bel laughed as a thought popped into her head. "Unless there was kissing involved. I mean, that is the exact opposite..." When Dorian didn't join her chuckle, Belathen shot upright. "Lethallin? Was there kissing?"

"It was unworthy of us, and will not happen again."

"Again? So something did happen?"

"Yes. Well, no. It was fairly innocent and I don't think either of us was actually... Are you smiling, sora?"

Bel was, in fact, smiling at the thought. "Thank you for telling me," she whispered, reaching out for her friend's hand. "I'm sorry if it was inappropriate of him."

"It isn't your fault, and I haven't exactly made myself available for an apology."

Belathen thought the situation over and stretched, yawning. Knowing her best friend, her brother, was alright alleviated her fears immensely, and hearing that Cullen had done something so... counter to her nightmare blunted the rest. "I don't mean to be a bad hostess," she apologized, "but I don't think I'm going to manage staying awake much longer."

"I'll let you get your rest."

Bel managed a dreamless sleep that night, and woke at a normal time the following morning. Cullen was obviously relieved to see her, but had a reservation in his greeting that would have seemed odd if not for her conversation with Dorian the previous night.

When Cullen said they needed to talk, Belathen just nodded and agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... whew! For anyone following from the previous story Tanadahl (on a different site), the next several chapters will be familiar. I am still using the base but will be adding the promised naughty bits, not to mention fine tuning since I really like how the new material here flowed.
> 
> And as always- thank you! Hope you continue to enjoy!


	18. We Need to Talk

Belathen Lavellan was unusually calm for a woman whose partner had made the declaration "we need to talk." She was able to get through the entire day since she had parted from Cullen at the war table without concern as well. The world was simply too frantic to worry about what her Commander, her Enasalin, may say. It helped that she had a good idea what was happening anyway.

As Bel entered Cullen's tower, she found him alone sulking over the mountain of paperwork that had appeared since their trip to Adamant. She sighed. It hadn't been there this morning. Obviously Cullen was working far too hard for his own good.

"Don't you have someone to go through some of that for you and summarize?" Bel asked, drawing attention to herself.

Cullen immediately straightened. "Bel. I... you came. I wasn't sure..."

"You said we needed to talk," Belathen reminded. "It sounded important."

"I- of course." He left the desk, the paperwork, everything as he came to her side. The smaller elf was quickly engulfed in his arms as he wrapped her in a hug. "You know I love you, yes?"

Bela smiled lightly as she looked up into his eyes. "Is this a trick question, Cullen? After these last few months there is no question of your feelings. Or mine."

Cullen squeezed harder, concern passing in his expression and distorting the scar on his lip. He seemed more concerned, exasperated even. "I am glad I've been clear, but I fear I have not been... totally honest with you. Or myself. I lately find myself..." He sighed, looking straight up. "Maker's breath, why is it so hard to talk about this?"

Belathen decided to be merciful. She reached a hand up, tipping his chin back down and pushing to the edge of her toes to kiss him. As she withdrew, Bel let her hand reach back to rest on his neck and settle while playing in the light curls that were just getting long. Cullen needed a haircut...

Bell pushed the thought away quickly, reminding herself to be serious.

"Cullen. It's alright." She nuzzled into his chest. "I think... I think I already know."

Cullen tensed. "I highly doubt that."

Belathen couldn't help but laugh aloud. "You aren't nearly as understated as you think. This is about Dorian, isn't it?" When Cullen flushed bright red, the elf knew she had hit the mark. "You like him. Am I right?"

Cullen settled at that. "Then you understand why we needed to talk."

Bell nodded slightly. "I would never presume to harness you, ma enasalin. If there is something I cannot give you..."

"But you do!" Cullen protested. "That's just it."

Bell put her finger to his lips. "Now Commander. Some may call me the Herald of Andraste still, and I do what I can, but I am under no illusion that I can be all things to all people. Dorian and I are very different I realize, not the least difference of which is that he has certain equipment I lack." She removed the finger covering the edge of Cullen's mouth and setting it at the edge of her own lips coyly.

"I... can't deny... Maker have mercy... I have always been... intrigued by... both forms." He cleared his throat. "Male and female that is."

"Well, besides yourself Dorian is one of the more prime specimens of the male form in Skyhold. I'm not surprised by the interest. Were he inclined I might make an overture myself." When Cullen face-faulted Bela chuckled. "What?"

"I just didn't think you'd be alright with this," Cullen admitted.

"Would you be alright if I took another lover as well?" Belathen challenged, curious rather than digging. She really didn't have anything in mind, but it was important to know.

"I..." The Commander's face colored even more. "The idea of you with another isn't... unappealing," he admitted at last.

"Good. Because this doesn't go just one way, Cullen." Belathen sighed and backed up a bit, leaning against the wall. "Let me know your thoughts as we go. If this doesn't come out like you hope, if Dorian says no, we can reassess should someone else catch your interest."

"Or yours," Cullen offered gently.

"Or mine," Bel added quietly with a smirk. "But we take it one step at a time. For now, we have agreed that you may speak with Dorian of your interest and act on it should the opportunity be... ripe. Nothing more. Yes?"

"Yes my love." Cullen came forward, pinning Bel against the wall with his hands and gifting her with a deep kiss. He pulled away, breathless. "I truly don't deserve you, Bel."

The elven woman shook her head. "You're wrong. You deserve all the love you can find, ma enasalin. Always."


	19. Finally Talking!

Cullen was nervous in matters of romance. It had been bad enough with Belathen, awkward and uncomfortable. Even just approaching Dorian was like the same uncertainty multiplied many times over. Cullen barely had an idea where to begin, much less ask the Tevinter mage for anything along the lines of a tryst. In the end, Cullen simply reminded himself that whatever happened he would still have the elven rogue at his side. The very idea gave him strength to approach Dorian in the library. After all, rejection didn't matter in the face of the greater acceptance. The fact Bel even allowed him to pursue this course of action...

"Commander. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" Dorian's voice was pleasant enough, albeit possessed of a definite tone of surprise.

"I was rather hoping you might have a moment to spare."

Cullen felt his breath catch as the mage considered the question. Finally, Dorian nodded and shut the book his nose had been in when the former-Templar had arrived. The volume was set on the arm of his favorite chair with two others he had been studying prior as he followed Cullen out on a walk.

The new mage tower had just been completed. Belathen had talked the options over with Cullen before approving the plans, having nearly determined to build a Templar hall instead. In the end both agreed the dedication to the careful study and application was best, and such a hall was best nestled across the hall from her window. If she was needed, the mages would find the Inquisitor close at hand. It would make a sensible apparent destination to Dorian. Before they arrived however, on the untended wall along the way, Cullen stopped.

"Why the pause, Cullen?" Alone, together, Dorian seemed more curious and open- even using Cullen's name.

The blonde leaned against the edge of the battlements, looking to his friend and taking a deep breath. "I have been thinking. A lot. About... well, about you." The blush on his cheeks had to bright red. He definitely felt like they were burning.

" About me?" Dorian sounded a mixture between surprised and amused. "Careful Commander. A lesser man might think you were coming on to him."

Cullen rolled his eyes. "Maker's breath, does everyone think I'm some perfect and innocent Chantry boy?" he muttered. "For curiosity's sake, what if I WAS interested, Dorian?" The last was stronger, and he let the humor enter his eyes. To his enjoyment, the Tevinter had a look of absolute shock and surprise painted on his face.

"I suppose I would have to admit surprise and ask about our Lady Inquisitor. I thought the two of you were quite the item."

"Yes. Well. That's true." The conversation felt easier than Cullen had expected. Even so, the words were more fumbling and stuck than he would have wished. "I love Belathen. That doesn't mean I'm not... That is to say, I do also... I like you as well. I would be interested to see if we couldn't have something more to our friendship than chess."

Dorian smiled widely. "Well! I never thought I'd see the day. What did you have in mind, Cullen?" The mage injected a thick desire into the Commander's name, pulling in close at the same time. Cullen found himself quite pinned to the stonework- though the position did suit him anyway. Cullen couldn't help but lean into Dorian's embrace, not any more than he could help how his breath caught in his lungs.

Cullen shut his eyes a moment, only to feel himself pulled the last inches and caught up in a kiss. It was completely different from Bel, at once rougher and yet tentative. He was hit by the realization Dorian, for all his talk, wasn't nearly as practiced as he claimed. Cullen pressed closely, completely folding into the kiss. Some part of him feared being found and interrupted like the first kiss with Belathen - but the interruption never came, and the kiss just got deeper.

"That was..."

"Please tell me we get to do that again."

Cullen nodded. "Tonight. I'll be waiting after I'm finished with my reports."

"I shall look forward to our evening together." Dorian pulled away. "Until then."

With Bel, the moment had been quick and unexpected. Cullen found himself quite taken with the idea of having the day to anticipate and consider what the evening would bring. And it truly came at too slowly.

Belathen, on the other hand, had far too much work to get through. She was not used to constant reading and writing- as a hunter in the clan, she had been privileged to even learn the skill, so daily use and practice was not her highest forte. She did try. It did however mean that a mountain of unanswered correspondence remained on Bel's desk awaiting her hand. Josephine would be pleased that the elvhen Herald was taking time to return the letters. Finally.

Bel was just picking up her quill to pen her responses when there was a knock resounding at her door. Curious she set the writing utensil down and stood to open her door. Cullen wouldn't have knocked- not anymore- and anyone cleaning up was much quieter. More surprising than the fact someone had trekked up here was the identity when she opened the door. On the other hand, it seemed finding a Tevinter mage approaching her quarters was becoming increasingly commonplace.

"I was hoping you might have a moment." Dorian had an uncertain, pensive expression as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Of course, lethallin." She stepped aside to allow him passage, closing the door as the Tevinter entered. "What do you need of my time then?"

"Your Commander came to see me earlier." With those words, Dorian settled himself on the couch by her fireplace and met her eyes cautiously. "I found our discourse very... intriguing."

"So I would imagine," Belathen chuckled as she settled down beside her best friend.

"I care for you, sora. More than I presumed possible. More than is likely wise." Dorian shifted a bit uncomfortably. "That is to say I see you as... a sister. Of course. If you have any discomfort in this..."

Bela laughed and reached for his hands, pulling them onto her lap. "My dear lethallin- Dorian, brother- I love Cullen. He loves me most assuredly in return. Whether this is a dalliance or somewhat more than that I will be pleased to know he has found more than just me to care about." A frown danced across her expression briefly. "Dorian, I must ask. Will you be gentle with him?" She blushed. "Not physically I mean. Beyond that."

Dorian blinked in confusion. "Gentle? What do you mean?"

Bel took a deep breath. "I know Cullen. He is soft in matters of the heart, Dorian. Be careful with him for me?"

Dorian nodded slowly, though Bel caught from her experiences with him and his look now that his mind must be reeling. If Cullen was soft Dorian was something else entirely: he was almost fully inexperienced. Cullen would take that into account; Belathen imagined Dorian could learn to do the same. This would be good for both of them. In the end, Belathen knew Dorian deserved love just as much as Cullen. If she couldn't help him directly she definitely would do what she could when an opportunity presented itself.

"So this has your blessing?" Dorian asked, surprised.

"Yes lethallin." More than you know.


	20. Falling

Cullen sighed as he looked at the requisition order he was signing to send to Kirkwall. He was about ready to head straight for Belathen's quarters and growl at her for forcing this on him. Instead, he gave his world-weary grumble and signed while adding a letter to the request to Guard-Captain Aveline.

*Guard Captain-

I wish to thank you for your support of the Inquisition in this unusual requirement with which we find ourselves. I must admit to personal befuddlement over the issue myself and would appreciate any reports and data you have on the usefulness of cherrywood 'Don't' signs as a deterrent. I also find the surreal need to ask that if a different wood is suggested that you alter this order.*

Maker had he just written that sentence? The odd things love makes you do. Mayhaps an elvish rogue with a black sense of humor was the wrong choice for Inquisitor. Though she definitely did wonders for the Commander...

Cullen had just affixed his seal to this last letter of the day when his door opened. He looked up and immediately found a smile come to his lips. "You're early."

"I had little else demanding my attention this evening," Dorian explained. "Is that... alright?"

"I was just finishing anyway." Cullen's assurance seemed to break some unseen barrier and allowed Dorian to find some missing confidence. Cullen gestures for the other man to join him as he reached into the lowest drawer of his desk.

Bel had been extremely thorough in cleansing Cullen's office. The minute she realized the temptation lyrium presented she had snuck in when he wasn't there. In the familiar drawer was now instead tea leaves and a bottle of alcohol. The bottle was what Cullen brought out now- the first time he had opened it. Dorian nodded, glad for something to relieved the last bit of tension involved. Cullen looked much calmer, but his heart was racing just as fast.

"So."

Cullen nodded. "So indeed."

"I'm afraid I'm not particularly familiar with how something like this goes." The admission was comforting.

"Nor am I," Cullen admitted. "I typically make a mess out of... matters of the heart."

"Then we come from common ground." Dorian finished his drink, faster than he had anticipated. "I could suggest we see what comes naturally..."

Cullen laughed. Hard. "I'm sorry. It's just that what comes natural to ME is very- awkward."

Dorian chuckled. "Well my standard is to play hard to get. Not an easy thing when I'm so obviously already gotten. So natural is out of the question."

Cullen knew he was likely had what Bel called his amused predator look. He didn't care. This WAS amusing. "So now what?"

"We could move on to something more primal." It started conversationally, like the Tevinter could be talking about the weather, but the way the last word rolled off his tongue was positively maddening.

"I just might like that. Upstairs?" The commander gestured to the ladder, inviting Dorian to join him. He stepped up the ladder, shaking his rear end slightly. That got the mage rushing to join him.

It wasn't until several hours later, when Dorian was standing completely naked in the middle of the room, that Cullen got feedback.

"This place is actually charming."

"Really?" Cullen let his amusement out, almost laughing.

"Dare I ask why there is a giant hole in your ceiling?"

Cullen paused, sighing. Dorian had been a very close friend these last months, and Cullen had confided his attempts and newfound success at dismissing lyrium from his life. But this was different territory. Only one other person really knew how bad it was, and that was Lavellan. Still...

"The truth? When the withdrawal is at its worse I find it necessary to have a place to cool down. The open air helps the sweats."

"Ah. I see." Dorian sat back on the bed beside his newest partner. "Sorry. I didn't realize."

"It's not something I publicize," Cullen pointed out. "How would you know?"

"Point conceded." Tentatively, Dorian reached out for Cullen's hands and held them a minute before continuing. "I was wondering about what happens next. We've had our fun- you have your Bel, it's perfectly reasonable to leave it there. But you don't strike me was the type for random promiscuity. You did say something about wondering where this leads. Did you find an answer?"

Cullen felt his eyebrows raise. "What do you want, Dorian?"

"All on me, then?"

"By no means. But this does affect you as well."

Dorian sighed. "I like you, Cullen. But I also... I worry for Belathen. Are you sure..?"

Cullen choked and laughed. "Trust me, if Bel had an issue we would not be here. She knows I am... to use your words, not prone to random promiscuity. But tonight was something I will not soon forget."

Dorian had to laugh at the assessment. "Archdemons, ancient magisters- and here we are falling in..." The Tevinter stopped short of the word, choosing instead to just lay back down. "I think this is infinitely more important."

"As do I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... truth? I am decidedly female, this why I chose to gloss over the explicit part of this chapter. Apologies if it seems a cop-out, but no way I wrote that part seemed right. So... yeah. I'll make it up later?


	21. Missing Pieces

There was good luck, there was bad luck, and there was the luck of Inquisitor Belathen Lavellan. In the end what was supposed to be a quick trip to check out the Emerald Graves took almost two months of trying to manage Orlesian politics. The reports back were all that kept Cullen calm as he waited for word she was safe. He hated sending her out, wishing he was with he. On the other hand, a month and a half extra was a nice enough time to get used to his new romantic entanglement. Truthfully, spending the evenings with Dorian was a comfort. After a few weeks had passed, the Tevinter Mage even stopped leaving before morning broke. It was a subtle but welcome change. Cullen couldn't even begin to express how much it meant to him.

It was in those early hours, feeling the warmth nearby and sighing softly in relief, that Cullen was woken abruptly by a quietly whispered phrase. "I think I've actually fallen in love with you."

Cullen rolled over to meet Dorian's eyes. Dorian gasped a bit on surprise, flushing.

"I'm glad to hear that," Cullen responded in the same almost reverent whisper. "I'd hate to be falling alone."

"You know, in Tevinter even best friends of different genders are told that romance is ill-advised."

"Then I'm doubly glad we are in the south." With that, Cullen leaned in for a soft kiss. Dorian was smiling beneath it almost immediately, but pulled away abruptly. "Is something wrong?"

"When I've been with another man who has a relationship I'm used to being a dirty secret," Dorian explained. He fumbled for the words a moment before shaking his head. "It seems surreal."

"I can't say it's common in Fereldan either," Cullen admitted.

It was two days later while they were sharing dinner in Lavellan's deserted quarters (not only did she encourage it, but she had asked Cullen to look after the cat that kept scratching at her window) when a thought dawned on the Commander.

"The fact that I'm... with... Lavellan isn't going to be an issue for us, is it?" He seemed concerned by the very concept, to the point that Dorian could see the shake in his lover's hand and heard the tremble in his voice.

"Certainly not." Dorian was pleased to see his partner ease at the quick response. "I like Bel. I count her among my very few true friends. One of only four I've ever had." The Tevinter paused at that with a sigh. "And three of you are here in Skyhold."

Cullen smiled. "Building new ties, then?"

There was a quiet pause before the mage could answer. "I suppose I am."

"We talked about a lot of things when we first started. You said you want something- well, something more as I recall. Is that still true?"

Dorian found himself stalled again. "Well, I suppose this war won't go on forever, will it? What do you plan to do?"

"As long as there is an Inquisition, I will stay. I'm tired of always moving on. I'd like to stay, see what it's like to really be part of something bigger than myself."

Dorian nodded. "Just like you to throw yourself into your work regardless of the situation. What about Bel? I would have thought she intended to go back to her clan."

Cullen went quiet. Uncomfortably so. "I... that might have been true."

Dorian couldn't help his surprise. "But not any longer?"

"I miscalculated on a mission," Cullen whispered. "We've been keeping it quiet but... Belathen may be the last of the Lavellan clan."

"And I've stumbled straight into something I should have left alone." Dorian chided himself with a sip of his drink. "My apologies."

"Don't worry about it. It's... well, you are the one she considers her best friend. You SHOULD know." The Commander seemed distracted then, looking up at the ceiling. "She promised she forgives me, you know. That it has been set aside. Yet I can't tell myself it's alright."

"Probably because it isn't. That doesn't mean you are to blame." Dorian moved to Cullen, wrapping the larger man in a hug. "If she can see that, so can you."

It was an unexpectedly tender moment. Cullen couldn't help but turn to meet Dorian's mouth, to relish the momentary touch between them. It was fiery, tangible- there was a lack of resistance that the former Templar couldn't attribute to his relationship with the Inquisitor. It felt dangerous, exciting. That was the reason Cullen had first found himself so entranced by the Tevinter male...

Now it was so much more. There was a strength of character he hadn't expected, and a resounding intellect. The whole package greatly appealed. In the end it was not so different from Bel after all - yet it was deep as well. Cullen only wished that he could share this joy with her more evenly.

Then Dorian was behind him, carefully rubbing his shoulders, and Cullen found himself melting at the touch. All other thoughts dissipated except how comfortable and right this felt. This was definitely love. This was... almost perfect. But something nagged at the back of his mind, as if something was missing. The idea was dismissed when Dorian started to nip lightly at Cullen's neck and made even that odd sensation of something amiss disappear.


	22. A Hint

Cullen and Belathen fought rarely, but when they were at odds it was passionately so. The hardest part of arguing to the couple tended to be finding somewhere to have their spat, since it tended to involve highly raised voices and words that needed to stay between the two of them. They also tried not to get into screaming matches about the big things. Truthfully, Cullen couldn't remember a discussion in harsh times that was about something that had weight to it; the first time they had fought involved a hairbrush left haphazardly on Cullen's bed. Because- and how he hated himself for even thinking, much less saying, the words- the Herald of Andraste was capable of everything EXCEPT domestic maintenance. 

This trend did not seem to stop with Bel, as his first real argument with Dorian started over a wayward shoe of all things. Dorian had been in a hurry and failed to pick up the apparently offensive thing when he finished getting dressed. A few of his things had made their way to Cullen's, including another pair of shoes, and the Tevinter simply hadn't thought about that particular object. Unfortunately Cullen had a bad morning, his headaches increasingly intense as the day went on, and the unwitting Commander found the shoe by tripping over it. Not that he lost his balance, but he was offended by the thought he COULD have, and that set him off.

Dorian, for one, found the whole thing ridiculous. Not only that but considering his fears were already strong enough, he simply left after a few minutes of yelling and considered what would happen if he didn't come back. The mage was so lost in thought he didn't hear the announcement as the gate opened. He skipped dinner as well, choosing instead to sneak his own food as he thought and return to a quiet part of the overlook in Skyhold. It was lovely here in the Frostbacks, if a little chilly. Maybe going back north- for the weather, of course...

"Dorian. I thought you might be up here."

It was quite literally the last voice he expected right then, excepting maybe his father. The Inquisitor's party wasn't due back for days!

"Were you looking long?" he asked Belathen, curious.

"Not exactly. I got held up you see. Not that I had any trouble finding you." When Dorian's eyebrows contorted in surprise, Bel explained, "I used to wander up here a bit myself. Just so you know, Cullen is well aware of this spot."

"I'll make a note of that." Dorian sighed loudly. "How much have you heard?"

"A little. Enough to surmise you finally had an argument. I doubt it was actually about... what it was about." When a grin threatened the corners of her mouth Dorian actually groaned in frustration. "Honestly lethallin? A shoe?"

"It's the principle..."

"It's a shoe. Not even a nice shoe."

"All my shoes are nice!"

"Dorian. Stop." Lavellan's voice took on the strong, serious tone of the Inquisition's leader quickly. Then, quieter, she asked, "What is going on?"

"I'm not used to this," Dorian admitted. "I... Bel, how did you know for sure you loved Cullen?"

The question surprised Belathen so much that she actually started. Her entire body straightened. "Oh." Then she affected a very sweet grin and sighed happily. "Is that all this is about?"

"Is that ALL?" Dorian scoffed, incredulous.

"I didn't mean to offend. It's just that... well, love is different for everyone. It's almost impossible to describe." She leaned over the wall beside her friend, peering into the mountainous distance. "For me it was when I realized how little everything else would mean without him. I could let go of... almost... everyone else. My clan. My advisors. Even most of my friends. If anything happened to Cullen, though..." Her voice trailed off, her body moving to get a better look at his tower. As though seeing it was still there would remind her he was as well.

Dorian found the description helpful yet also startling. That was not far off from his own feelings on the matter, and the common ground with the Inquisitor was fascinating. Yes he'd gotten close as a friend, but this was more intimate, no question.

"How can you just hand out little pieces of your heart like that?" Dorian asked, unable to hold the question in. "To tell me that..."

"You aren't just anyone, Dorian. You're my best friend. Creators, with how we both feel about Cullen we should be closer than ever before, shouldn't we?"

"I suppose you're right."

Even as he said it, Dorian couldn't help his mind wandering to look at the Inquisitor. Really look at her. Standing in the light shadows as evening came, leaning on the stonework, he was suddenly struck with a stray thought that he could understand someone finding her attractive. He tried shaking the idea out of his head, but it was stuck there...

"Dorian? Is everything going to be alright?"

"Hmm?"

"Cullen. Are you two alright?"

The moment over, Dorian nodded. "Of course. I'll explain myself, and so long as he understands I don't see an issue."

"I'm sure he will." Belathen's chuckle reminded Dorian that she knew Cullen better than he for the moment, and was probably right. "Tell you what. I need a night to finish my reports and get used to a bed again. Take the night with Cullen, make this right. It'll put him in a better mood when I'm with him tomorrow. And I WILL be taking him tomorrow."


	23. A Lily-Petal Away

Belathen didn't stop moving once she returned to Skyhold; if anything, she took more on and seemed busier. What she lacked in danger on the road was more than made up for by the social and political fronts-the annoyance of Florianne's body arriving in a box months ago ready for her judgement had made that painfully clear. Sometimes the elven huntress considered just disappearing, or staying out on the road. Then she thought of Cullen, of Dorian, and realized there was more than enough reason to head back. It even started to feel a little like home in spite of the slightly stifling sensations that popped up from time to time.

There were, however, definitely perks to being the Inquisitor. One of those happened to be the bathing chamber Josephine was able to have set up attached to her room. It was one of the few fine things Lavellan truly basked in when able, especially since Dagna added runes to keep the water warm while in use. Not only that, it was one of the times she could be completely alone- nobody dared disturb her except in emergency, and even Cullen tended to leave her in peace unless she asked him to join her. It was a small, secret spot she kept to herself. Usually she left the truly long sessions for when she was able to bask: when she just got back and needed her muscles to relax, at the end of a longer day when she had successfully accomplished her tasks...

Tonight was a bit different.

When Clan Lavellan was reported mostly dead or missing, Bel had let the idea stay abstract. She chose very purposely not to ask many questions or go after survivors, and steadfastly refused to read the attachments that would give names and details. Not when she had to be focussed on Corypheus. Still, there was a letter awaiting in her room, and it was startling- the script on the envelope was distinctive, as was the curve of some very remarkable lettering. Josephine had left it prominent on her desk, unopened, likely thinking it would bring her some comfort. But the writing, even just seeing the curves of her own name written, did exactly the opposite. Opening the letter did little to quell the knot in her stomach.

'I'm not sure whether to address this Inquisitor Lavellan, or simply lethallan. Ma'bela? Ma'lath? This entire letter is awkward to say the least...'

Belathen had gotten no further than those few sentences before deciding anything else she had on her list this evening would be forgotten. She took the letter and brought it with her, setting it on the side while she settled into the warm water and debated how to proceed.

What harm was there in reading a letter?

'There are few of us left in the Marches. I know you did your best, and those of us who survive owe our lives to you and the men you sent. It is a debt the clan will not long forget, to the hunter who has proven the strongest of our daughters.

'With the loss of Keeper Deshanna I have been tasked with keeping our traditions alive. The experience has shown me a new light, however, and I see that part of my task is to choose which of those traditions is a panel of aiding us best. We are few, but we are proud, and right now little brings us more pride than your position as Inquisitor.

'Just as nothing brings me more pain than the hurt I caused that put you in that remarkable position.'

Belathen rolled her eyes. Always vain, her Ellana. Of course she thought Bel had gone to the conclave out of spite or misguided sense of pain. Ellie wasn't the type to recognize duty in the same way. Even so, the words were telling. And... strange.

'When this is over, please be in contact. Lavellan needs you. I need you. I never stopped loving you, and I love you even now.'

The letter fell into the water, the remainder of the ink bleeding as Bel cursed both her clumsiness and Ellana. It would have been an insult- maybe it still did insult her- if it didn't tug on her heartstrings perfectly. Memories of those stolen kisses, those moments in the woodlands, filled her memory. Before she could stop, a hand drifted under the water...

Only to stop. Almost immediately.

"What is past is past," Belathen whispered softly. She threw the remains of the letter into a corner, ducking her whole head under the warmth of the water. Her breath exited slowly, measured perfectly to calm her body; then, with a gasp, she surfaced. It felt clearer, much better, and easier to breathe. Sufficiently clean and calm, Belathen exited and wrapped what Josephine had declared the fluffiest towel in Orlais around her to sop up the water. Within moments the elf had dressed and headed up the stairs to her room.

On the desk was a new phial. She picked up a note beside it in Leliana's writing, blinking as she took it in.

'The perfume was Cole's adamant suggestion, but wherever he got the idea for this combination it is delightful. I have ordered the same for myself and, by your leave, will continue to have the gentleman I know in Orlais continue to supply as needed.'

Bel uncapped and inhaled the scent. She immediately recognized the gentle undertones of Andraste's Grace in it, the scent as always adding its cleansing tone, but the main scent was not at all familiar. It was sweet, but just slightly exotic as well, and she was surprised to find it calling to her. The elf immediately dabbed some on her wrists and inhaled deeply.

That was better.

Then she picked up the quill and let her words flow.

'Keeper Ellana- I am filled with joy to learn some of our clan has survived. The Inquisition is at your disposal. Not so the Inquisitor.

'I have found something truer here, something stronger than we ever had. I hope one day you too may experience something that is real.

'I am sorry if you have not stopped loving me. I have had to make myself stop loving you, and it is a habit that I feel is not worthy of breaking. -Hunter Belathen Lavellan, Inquisitor.'

As she sealed the letter, Bel inhaled sharply to fill her mind with the perfumed scent that settled in the air around her. She couldn't help but pick up the bottle, deciphering the Orlesian to determine the smell. Even when she understood the writing she couldn't quite comprehend the nature of it. Northern star.

The next morning it was a little clearer when Dorian paused while walking past her, gripping her arm and inhaling just as deeply as she had the previous night. "Where did you find Tevinter jasmine?" he asked, dumbfounded.

Northern star indeed.


	24. Sifting

Cullen and Dorian shared quiet moment after lunch while remaining at a second floor table in Herald's Rest, playing a quick game of chess while peeking out at the practice dummies and the lone remaining assailant. Belathen had taken the pair of daggers she had been using lately early this morning and started hacking away at a single modified dummy for practice. Courtesy of Sera, it had a gained dark hair and a beard, and written across the chest in bright red letters was the word "Arsewall." It was nearly noon and Bel didn't seem to have lost steam yet.

Of all the things the so-called Herald of Andraste could accept and let go, it seemed that betrayal was not one.

"Remind me never to get the Inquisitor angry," Dorian noted as he finally made his move on the board. "I think- yes, that's the head just come clean off." He sat back and looked out the window, trusting his lover's honesty implicitly and not worrying about cheating. "I wonder if this is what she's like against demons."

"You'd have to ask Solas or Cassandra. Maybe the Iron Bull. I've never really seen her outside of combat training." Cullen watched as one dagger found its way into the false head that fell to the ground, the other buried in the approximate placement of a human heart. "She is extremely upset though."

"I wouldn't want to be Blackwall when he is brought from Val Royeaux, that much is certain." Dorian watched as the elf finally slumped on the nearby bench, Cassandra instinctively leaving the location to avoid her.

"If she didn't think it would reflect badly on how the Inquisition treats our allies she'd have left him to hang," Cullen admitted. "It appears she does have trouble with outright lies."

Dorian simply nodded at the display. "Sorry to say this amatus but I suggest we call our game. You are going to win, and it appears your particular brand of tact might be of use."

Cullen paused. "Are you sure? I just got back and technically it IS our night..."

Dorian peered out the window again. "Cullen, I may want you, but she quite obviously needs you. I'll be fine."

Cullen breathed a sigh of relief and gathered the pieces. He shared a quick kiss with Dorian before disappearing down the stairs.

Leaving the Tevinter wondering a bit why he had done that. At least until he caught sight of Cullen approaching and pulling the elvish Inquisitor into his arms tightly, offering the strength only he could. She let him gather her up and sweep her from her feet with a flourish, and their kiss was anything but chaste or gentle. It was very much born of a deep need. And instead of jealousy, Dorian simply felt relief that Cullen was able to be everything she needed and still manage to be there for him when necessary as well.

It wasn't until the next day that Dorian found out how much the evening had really taken out of the commander. Cullen started the day looking exhausted, and the situation only worsened as he went about his duties. Dorian watched his amatus carefully as the morning wore into afternoon, and by just after lunchtime interceded by dropping unannounced into Cullen's office and depositing himself in the older man's lap. "Upstairs," Dorian directed. "Now."

Cullen shook his head. "Not right now..."

"Now. I'm guessing you barely slept at all, and you will make a mistake if you don't manage yourself better. So nap. I'll reroute and prioritize for an hour or two. If anything requires your attention I will make sure you are made aware. Now GO."

Cullen grumbled, but did follow directions. When he awoke later he saw it the last of the evening sun peeking above the hole in his roof. Downstairs was... almost too quiet. He peeked down with a bit of trepidation.

To see he needn't have worried. Dorian was there as promised, though the mage had taken to the floor in front of Cullen's desk. At his side was the Inquisitor- actually, Bel was not so much at his side as laying down while Dorian messed with stray strands of her hair where her head lay in his lap. Her night hadn't been much better than Cullen's, and the commander was pleased to see that she had actually fallen asleep as well.

After pulling himself together, Cullen came down quietly as possible. Dorian turned his was to look and nodded a greeting, but made sure to retain the silence. Cullen didn't even think about it: he simply leaned on the desk beside the duo, squeezing in to grab Dorian's more idle hand.

"How long has she been here?" Cullen asked curiously.

"A little over an hour. I suggested we sit and talk- this happened about ten minutes after." Dorian chuckled lightly. "It appears I'm good for something."

Cullen nodded. "You put us both at ease," the male asked. "I say that's a rare talent considering you're talking about two of the most stubborn workaholics in Thedas." The blonde got serious from there, considering his next course of discussion. "Look, I hate to ask- and if it is too much, please tell me- but... you see, this mess with Blackwall has made me realize how few people either of us can really trust even in Bel's inner circle. There's Cassandra, there's me, and then there's you... and that's about it."

Dorian considered. "I thought she considered Solas close."

"We still know almost nothing about him, realistically." Cullen paused, shaking his head. "I have my soldiers here. Out in the field Bel's alone with whoever she takes with her. I can't go with, but Cassandra can." The warrior met the Tevinter's eyes, very serious as they exchanged looks. "You... could."

Dorian found his eyebrows furrow, unsure. "You want me to leave?"

"Maker no! But... yes." Cullen struggled to find the words. "I love both of you very much. I know that in spite of how little you say there are always barbs towards you here, and those hurt as badly as anything physical. I'd feel more comfortable for both your sakes if I knew you had each other's backs. There will always be danger for everyone in the Inquisition; if I must send either of you into the thick of it I prefer you looking out for each other."

Dorian considered the concept. "I know she is leaving tomorrow morning after... well AFTER. Solas is already slated to go with her and we overlap in fairly crucial areas."

"I'll talk to him. Just switch out I suppose. That should do it, yes?"

Dorian nodded. "If you want me watching out for her, I'll watch out for her. Just promise me you'll take care of yourself while we're gone."

Cullen sighed happily in thanks. If it would keep Bel safe and Dorian from some of the gossip he knew the mage abhorred it would be well worth the little loneliness.

What Cullen didn't expect was for Belathen to have such a keen sense of her hahren. While Cullen approached the elven mage with trepidation she must certainly did not. She also knew his demeanor well enough that when Solas lied to her, saying he was otherwise occupied, it sent a warning signal. Which led her to asking Cullen. Which led her to yelling at Cullen. Which led to her disappearing from under his nose. Which, in turn, led to night falling with the Inquisitor completely out of contact with the world.

Dorian was walking past the stables, supposedly deserted except for the beasts, when he heard the shuddering whimper. It was coming from a stack of hay along the side of the creatures' abode. Dorian didn't know terribly much about farms or horses, but he was relatively certain a haystack should be inanimately silent. It was already well past nightfall, so there was no reason anyone should be here anyway; that in mind, the Tevinter approached the stack quietly and brushed some of the straw from the top to see who or what was there.

What he found was the Inquisitor. She was wrapped up in a protective ball, little sticks of hay stuck in her hair while the rest of her was covered by a thick blanket to keep the rough edges from getting caught. Based on the red around her eyes he imagined she must have been crying at some point and came out here to collect herself.

"Kaffas," he sighed, pulling her from the hay quickly and carefully. She had slept ill enough the previous night that even with the earlier nap she didn't rouse when he picked her up. One thing was certain: elven women were definitely quite slight of build, and it was like she hardly weighed anything. Dorian just gathered her up, let the blanket fall, and thought about what to do next.

The most obvious answer would be to return Belathen to her quarters. However, Dorian was fairly certain that Cullen was there, and if this was any indication they probably had a bit to discuss before waking up together again. Even if it was the last morning for a while she would be home. Cullen's rooms would be free, but Dorian had no confidence in his ability to get her up the ladder like this. He looked her over again, considering waking her forcefully, then thought better of it. She had an impossible day ahead of her.

With a sigh, Dorian headed to the only place left go him. Even Cullen hadn't entered the mage's quarters; nobody had since he joined the Inquisition. Dorian had kept his private room... private. But this was his best friend after all, and she certainly had earned some kindness.

Which is precisely how Belathen awoke the next morning, the morning daylight creeping in, to strange images. This was not anywhere she knew, she caught that as she stared at the ceiling, but she would know that stonework anywhere. This was definitely still her own Skyhold. As she rolled to her side, Bel was soon struck with the realization she was not in this bed alone. It took a few blinks to get the haze out of her eyes, but it soon resolved into the image of her best friend- and the cause of her current displeasure with her love. The memories of the previous night rushed back, causing her to groan.

As soon as she did, Bel learned just how quickly the Tevinter could move as he turned to meet her eyes. "Good morning," he greeted.

"Ah... good morning." Fenedhis, how did Dorian manage to look so put-together first thing in the morning? Even his hair seemed reluctant to ruffle itself! Belathen fought back the blush threatening her cheeks; Dorian was Cullen's lover, not hers. She forced herself to get a grip but caught the twinkle in his eyes. And he was enjoying her discomfort. Why was he her best friend again?

"I found you... checking the mounts, shall we say?" A single hand darted to her face, moving hair out of danger of ending up in her mouth. "I don't mean to pry but if you need an ear..." He just stopped there, letting the offer linger in the air unsaid.

Belathen took a deep breath. THIS was why he was her closest friend, excepting maybe Cullen. "Are you sure? It's a bit of complaining about the Commander."

"I can't say I've never tiffed with Cullen," Dorian noted. "Is this about his obsessive cleaning or the tendency to get upset if you do something expressly against his advice?"

Bel chuckled. "I actually don't mind those," she admitted. "This would be the excessive protectiveness."

"Oh." Dorian was suddenly sitting up like a shot from a bow. "You... found out."

"Solas doesn't ask for favors," Belathen noted. "So when he said he couldn't join I was surprised. Until I told Cullen and he barely reacted."

Dorian winced. "That man cannot act to save his life."

"No, he cannot."

"I am sorry. For my part in all this."

Belathen stretched and got up herself. The room was larger than many in the Keep, but strangely bare of personality. Not as she would have expected at all considering the owner. "It isn't your fault. Honestly I just feel selfish. To tell the truth, I want you there Dorian. I had been leaving you here for Cullen's sake since we arrived at Skyhold."

That explained a lot. Once they returned from the future, Bel had taken to heading out with Dorian whenever she could. Through the Storm Coast, the Mires, he had travelled at her side; then they got to Skyhold, and she had changed her tactics to the elf she called hahren. Dorian had thought it a Dalish thing; apparently, it was a Bel thing.

"I joined your Inquisition for a reason," Dorian reminded. "I would rather stick with you than stay here."

Belathen smiled. "I guess we both owe Cullen a thank you then."

"Do we string him along until after you judge the false Warden?"

"Well, he DID go behind my back..."


	25. Choice

Dorian's observance and wondering concerning Bel's ferocity towards the training mannequin was put to the test as soon as they exited Sahrnia. It turned out that her anger at the dummy and the way she attacked demons or Red Templars were worlds apart. She was faster than he could have possibly imagined. Not only that, she grinned with each take-down with a strange flourish. It should have been disturbing, actually, but instead was simply intriguing. In fact, not until they created the main courtyard of Suledin Keep was there even a real challenge.

Dorian almost warned Belathen about the demon, but she raised a palm to hold back any comment as she approached the being with what Dorian could only describe as a 'wild calm.'

"Ah, the hero arrives," the demon greeted. "But is it hero or murderer? It's so hard to tell."

"So you are the demon called Imshael. Somehow I thought you'd be more imposing." Bel was roguishly reckless, looking almost bored by the encounter.

"Choice. Spirit." It seemed offended.

"Either way you won't exist in a minute," the Inquisitor clarified, pulling out one of her daggers.

"Wait! Wait!" The nervous clamor was amusing, as was Belathen's quick change of maneuver to pick at her nail with the sharp edge. She glared as Imshael continued, "True to my name, I would give you a choice. It doesn't always have to end in blood."

Bel scoffed but still gestured got the thing to continue. Dorian finally spoke up. "That might not be the wisest course of action, Lavellan."

"I will hear his alternative nonetheless."

Imshael seemed pleased. "Simple. We don't fight, and I grant you power, shower you with riches, or virgins. Your pick."

The Inquisitor had the strangest reaction. She threw her head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the Keep. "Oh demon, you should study your quarry better. I'm a Dalish huntress in my heart; I have more power than I could have dreamed, and more resources than I can rightly wrap my head around. As for... virgins..." She rolled her eyes, turning slightly to glance at Dorian. "I suppose it depends on your definition. The last thing I need is the only fumbling novice in Fereldan to fall for me."

Now it was Imshael's turn to laugh. "And if I offered what you really want?"

Belathen paused for a moment, fighting to steady her breath. Then, suddenly, she lunged forward in a chaotic strike of sheer speed and purpose. She landed a single stroke before the demon slid from her onslaught; Dorian took the moment to get a barrier up before she attacked again and again. Cassandra and Bull struggled to keep up, but it seemed Bel was somehow able to manipulate pockets of time and catch her enemy time and again.

As one of those altered moments ended, Dorian hunted for her only to find the hits had finally caught up with the rogue. Iron Bull charged, between him and Cassandra pulling the demons attention elsewhere as it began its death throes.

Dorian's first thought was that Cullen was going to be enraged. Dorian was here to protect Lavellan after all, and he had failed. The second thought was to truly pray she was still breathing because he couldn't even pallet the alternative. He breathed out in relief to find she was in fact alive, verified as he heard Cassandra eliminate Imshael completely.

"The Inquisitor?" asked the Seeker, tentative.

"She lives. But she needs a proper healer." The mage reached for his back, grabbing one of the blankets and throwing it over the Inquisitor. "We shouldn't move her until someone more knowledgeable comes to assist."

It took a full hour before the medic arrived, and another hour after that before they found it safe to bring Belathen into a warm spot in the Keep. Even then the Tevinter felt somewhat bound to stick by Belathen. The medic was relieved, explaining that it was better if someone stayed at her side anyway. Just in case.

That was precisely the way the future changed, seemingly overnight.


	26. Truth Comes Out

The first night had been out of necessity. The medic who worked on Belathen had suggested someone watch her overnight, and Dorian was all too willing to volunteer. Some little voice in his head kept trying to say this was his fault anyway, and being at her side was the least he could do.

The second night was the mage channeling some measure of Cullen's overprotective nature. Bel was taking it easy, but was obviously unsteady on her feet when she used them. She would probably have been fine but Dorian would rather be safe. She was tired enough that she barely fought his insistence at sleeping in the same room.

After that they were back on the road and it felt more practical. The Iron Bull and Cassandra had elected to share a tent, and though their claims it was for the warmth rang false both the Tevinter and the elf saw the possibilities. Both were naturally cold-blooded after all; any extra heat was welcome. So Dorian used the excuse to stay close to the Dalish woman, the duo combining the extra blankets over their sleeping rolls and ignoring the fact that most mornings they woke up cuddled together in the center of the tent they had shared overnight.

After a week, it finally happened. Before that point they had both managed to look away while pulling themselves together in the morning. But Dorian just happened to turn, and Bel just happened to be still working on her bindings, and it provided an eyeful of Lavellan that he had to admit was instantly confusing. Mostly because he found himself... Old Gods preserve him, he was actually intrigued!

Bel's head turned at that moment, and he hurried to glance away as she finished the process. He took the chance to escape, heading towards the edge of their camp with an unexpected need to focus himself. He had just taken the chance to sit on the single dry tree stump in the area when he heard the unmistakable heavy chuckle of their resident qunari.

"So," the big kossith commented, "you and the boss, huh?"

"The very idea!" Dorian found his cheeks warmed a bit just at the thought.

"Oh I know nothing's happened." Then, lower, the Iron Bull added, "It's just amusing to see you want it to."

Dorian blinked and turned, gape-mouthed. "That's...preposterous! Have you forgotten who you're speaking to? I don't... I'm not... interested in the Inquisitor!"

Bull's shoulders were a large, heavy thing to shrug. Somehow he still managed it. "Suit yourself. But can I ask you a question?"

"Will it be ridiculous?"

The Iron Bull nodded, but asked anyway. "When you're with a man, has it ever been someone you didn't first think of as a friend?"

"What an odd thing to... if you must know, no. I'd never bed someone I don't like. Or don't know for that matter."

There was a responding "Huh" that seemed far too knowledgeable. "And the girls you failed to see as attractive? Were any of them actually friendly with you?"

Dorian laughed. "It was always my father forcing someone, or my mother. They all seemed like snakes waiting to bite!"

"That's kinda what I thought." Bull brushed a bit of snow from the ground, sitting beside the mage. "Look, I get why we didn't work. Too many power plays. You're not into that, it's fine. But even we started out by liking each other- not common for me. I also see why you work with Cullen." When Dorian turned in surprise, Bull simply reminded "Ben-hassrath" and shrugged again. "There's a lot of respect between the two of you. A lot of love, too, but it started somewhere. It started as a very deep friendship."

"Both very bad examples if you're insinuating I'm NOT attracted to men."

"I'm insinuating nothing. I'm telling you that it's possibly more complicated than that. It just may be that your preferences are simply for someone you actually care about." With that the kossith shrugged. "If that is the case it puts your situation in a different light, that's all."

The notion was surprisingly apt. Dorian couldn't actually thing of anything to contradict what the Iron Bull had suggested, and that might be the most damning part of the whole thing. The Tevinter sighed, his head winding up in his lap. "Vishante kaffas. That just makes everything more complicated."

"Better to know, right?" Bull was almost laughing, his hand slapping the mage playfully on the back.

"I'm not sure." But then they both heard rustling as the two women headed out of the tents and started on breakfast as they'd promised, and Dorian was very sure. When Bel looked over with a smile and wave, the simple motion captured his attention fully. Knowing what the flip-flop in his chest was about definitely helped. Considering how recently he'd experienced it with Cullen, Dorian was only miffed he hadn't recognized it before now.

Venedhis. Cullen. This was going to be hard to explain.


	27. In Case of Mistakes

Dorian was actually relieved when Belathen's attention was automatically diverted on returning to Skyhold. It was a bit embarrassing, and he felt horrible for thinking it, but truly it was for the best. Lavellan hurried up the stairs to make herself more presentable prior to meeting with Josephine and several 'important guests' while Dorian simply tossed his travel kit in a corner and made his way to Cullen's personal tower.

The blonde looked up immediately, smiling. "I'm glad to see you home. I hear your assistance was invaluable out there."

Dorian should have boasted, as was usual, but he instead just shrugged. Cullen would know the over-confidence as an act anyway. "I suppose I do have my uses," the Tevinter answered instead. "It didn't feel like it at the time."

"I read Bel... the Inquisitor's reports. She was very pleased with your performance." Cullen's lip turned up. "Speaking of, I doubt I'll see her again tonight. Feel up to... performing?"

Dorian knew he should talk with his lover first, but when Cullen smiled at him like that the mage was weak. There was a reason that he was so very infatuated with the former templar after all. It made his response a foregone conclusion. "I could be persuaded, amatus."

The evening passed far too quickly for Dorian's liking. Not to say it wasn't enjoyable- immensely so- but the hours seemed to tick by with increasing intensity. The night passed into pitch blackness, the duo crashing comfortably in bed as it rolled to an ending. Cullen had an arm wrapped around the younger man as they laid looking up at the stars through the hole in the ceiling.

It was the perfect time.

"I... you do know I love you, Cullen Rutherford." Dorian nuzzled into the embrace, sighing happily.

Cullen tensed slightly then chuckled. "That's almost exactly what I said the day I asked Bel about you. And I'm always wary when someone uses my surname."

Dorian shifted uncomfortably. "Funny you should mention that."

"I can't say I'm surprised, except that this hasn't happened sooner." Cullen sighed. "Who is he?"

"I... well..." Dorian found himself stammering, for once at a loss. "I have to say it came as a surprise to me as much as anyone. It's... not a he."

"Oh. Who is it, then?" There was definite amusement and surprise in that voice, though surprisingly without any anger or disappointment. Thankfully.

"I... well..." He turned, looking into the glow of the gentle amber in the starlight. Dorian realized there was no better to come completely clean. "If there's a problem with this, just say so. I... it's Bel."

Cullen stalled for a telling instant. He squeezed the mage closer to his side. "Maker's breath, love! I don't have any problem with that. I figured both of you would find someone else to care about sometime. I just never imagined it could be..." He laughed then, heartily, slipping out from the bed. "Give me a few minutes."

Dorian had just given up, was mostly put together and was preparing to head down the ladder, when he heard the door open. He took a deep breath and made himself ready to bid a fond good-night to Cullen when he caught that it was not one but two voices.

"You realize Josephine is going to kill you for dragging me away from that duke."

"Trust me, there is something infinitely more important to tend to here." Cullen's deep voice betrayed a very thick emotion. Dorian found his heart racing at the thought of what the Commander was insinuating- and almost thought of simply disappearing.

At least until he heard the response. "Ne nuvenin, ma'enasalin." Dorian might not know what the elven words meant, but he definitely heard the trust there. There was a close link she shared with Cullen, and the idea of building something similar was too tempting. It wasn't worthwhile to stay waiting. He brushed a hand through his hair with a sigh, gathered his courage, and slid down the ladder.

Belathen was completely unsurprised by his presence. "I trust your evening has gone well, gentlemen," the Inquisitor explained with a sly smirk.

"Oh it has," Cullen agreed. "And mayhaps a little revealing as well."

Dorian cleared his throat. "Yes, I have to agree. Cullen, if this is your idea of pressing the issue your work is quite finished."

Cullen just laughed and headed upstairs. "I'll just be up here then, my loves."

"And listening in no doubt," Belathen chided.

"If our positions were reversed you would as well."

Once the Commander had gotten up the ladder, Bel turned to the mage at her side. "This is a little odd. I'm guessing you have need of something, Dorian?"

Most of the time words felt easy, if only because he could hide behind a joking remark. Right now however all thoughts ailed except one: she looked apprehensive, not upset, and the acceptance only made him more aware that this was important.

"I seem to find myself an an impasse, Lavellan. On one hand I love Cullen, but then I also seem to have encountered feelings for someone else at the same time. I'm not sure if it's love, or if said person could even fathom the idea..."

"If he can't, he's an idiot, lethallin. And you know my opinion by now. If you have an additional pursuit, it would be fairly hypocritical for either Cullen or I to say it meant you have to set him aside. I'm more surprised I was consulted."

Dorian paused at that statement. "That's... a relief to hear." Then he acted quickly, before his nerves could kick in, closing the gap and tentatively kissing her on the lips. He'd imagined it would feel awkward, but that was not the case in the slightest; it was just as natural as with Cullen, though far more gentle a start. He felt her startle, almost pull away, but then her arms wrapped around his neck instead and she leaned near. When they did both come to the mutual decision the kiss was over, her arms stayed just as they were. Her eyes had gone extremely wide in surprise now that they opened, and there was a definite look of guilt. "Is something wrong?"

Bel went white as a sheet, leaning against the wall for support. "I need you to be very honest with me. How long?"

"It kind of hit me while we were away..."

"Fenedhis." Bel shook her head, sighing. "Can you... give me a day on this, Dorian?"

"Whatever you need- but may I ask why?"

Belathen looked embarrassed and a little scared when she finally met his eyes. "Just in case I made the biggest mistake of my life."


	28. Perspective

Belathen had been repressing the full extent of her attraction to Dorian long enough she hadn't thought on it until Imshael's clumsy attempt to bargain. The spirit had offered so haphazardly that the huntress had been startled, unable to help the nearly imperceptible nod before coming to her senses; still, she had seen the thing's grin just before she attacked, when he was certain he had won. Her assault had been careless because she knew her thoughts had betrayed her, given away her heart, and if Imshael wasn't defeated she couldn't be sure what he would do- it depended on if a thought was a choice to him.

Bel had to fight back her fear. It may be a small chance, but if a stray thought had turned into betrayal she had to know. The very idea sickened her; it was completely against everything she believed. Not to mention this would be impossible to explain or make up to Dorian. Which was why, even though all she wanted to do was give in and kiss him again, the Dalish woman stepped away with only the cryptic response in her wake. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears even as she steadied her mind. It didn't stop her heading directly for Herald's Rest.

Most of the time, Bel avoided the tavern; she wasn't one to drink consistently, and with Cullen she had found much more enjoyable sources of relieving stress when a mood took her. The barkeep looked unpleased as the door opened, though he straightened quickly in apology when he saw it was the Inquisitor herself. Bel just gave him a nod and raised her hand as she turned to the staircase and headed up to the top floor. Just as she hoped, Cole was in his usual place, and he looked up as she approached.

"You're wrong."

Bel simply blinked. "Good evening to you as well, Cole."

"Good evening. You're wrong."

Well that immediately calmed her down. "What am I wrong about, Cole?"

"You think you could have changed him. It doesn't work like that- it's only a choice, and not yours to make. I've been trying to help. I thought the flowers would make him remember but it made it worse. Closed the door. You opened it without me."

The flowers. No, but the perfume... "Jasmine," Bel realized.

"A little bit of home, but it wasn't in the right place. Not then."

Oh. "Cole?"

"Am I doing this wrong? I want to be direct, but it doesn't seem to work. Does... did I help?"

Belathen leaned against the wall, considering the conversation and what she knew...

Cole had seen something far enough back that he had tried to fix it- by bringing her and Dorian together. This wasn't a trick from Imshael, then; it was real.

Every memory crashed in an instant. Little touches, little comments... things she had brushed off as just Dorian being himself, now pulled into a new light. She had been drawn from the start, and thought she was alone, and yet...

'You're a remarkable woman, Inquisitor. I mean that in the best way.'

Creators, she and Dorian had both been blind!

"Yes Cole. You helped."

Which was precisely how Bel wound up back at her door, stalled. She was only slightly surprised to find that she wasn't alone- Dorian and Cullen were both waiting, curiosity palpable.

"Look, snowdrop..."

Belathen halted anything further by lunging forward, crashing right into Dorian's arms and wrapping around him. It was more than a simple reflex when he pulled her closer into the hug, a bit of protectiveness entering in to meet her intensity. "I'm sorry," Belathen whispered. "I had to be sure."

"And?"

"I don't want either of us hurt," she admitted. "What do you think of taking it slowly?"

"I... can do slow."

As soon as the words exited, neither could resist another kiss, much less tentative than the first. It was Cullen who later noted that 'slow' was a relative term, and one none of them were particularly familiar with in terms of romance.


	29. Going Well

"But Inquisitor, your presence is desperately needed!"

Belathen sighed loudly, not even attempting to hide her discontent. "Josie. I appreciate the issue, really I do. However, I have been speaking with the Orlesian delegation for the past four days, and if you make me do it again then I am likely to say something scandalous. Such as insinuating that Andraste has whispered to me that as thanks for sending her Herald, Orlais should return the Dirth to the Dalish."

Josephine leaned back in her chair with a gasp. "You wouldn't!"

"I have turned enough heads with simply refusing to call it the Exalted Plains," Bel reminded with a smile. "I truly hope you won't force me to do something even more rash."

"I can't..."

"Lady Montilliyet." Lavellan let her lips turn down in a frown, pinching her nose just at the base of the ornate valleslin on her forehead. "Please. I have to head out in two days' time to deal with the Emerald Graves, and I need to spend time with those I care about."

Josephine blinked at the honest words. "I can make excuses. Go see your Commander."

Slight amusement made the elf's ears burn, but she stayed silent. "Thank you, Josie. I appreciate this."

With that, Belathen exited the war room. Josephine did not follow, having paperwork to gather beforehand. Instead the Inquisitor was completely alone as she exited to find Dorian leaning against the wall, waiting for her.

"Sorry for the delay, ma lath."

Dorian simply chuckled as he pulled her close and gave a quick kiss to the top of her head. "Don't worry about it. After the evening with Cullen... well, I only just got here myself."

Bel chuckled at the thought. "I hope it was fun, then. I'm afraid I really must ask to borrow him for a while."

"It isn't borrowing. I fully recognize you had him first." Dorian heard the nearby door crack and dashed with Belathen to door. Instead of exiting to the main hall he dragged her lightly to the staircase leading to the kitchens and set a hand on each shoulder. "Unfortunately I'm afraid he has work today. Something to do with Samson. Said he would meet up with us at dinner." On catching Bel's frown the Tevinter added, "I however happen to have a free schedule today, snowdrop."

The past week had been full of gentle, sweet nothings and quiet promises of what could happen. Cullen had given the duo ample time to explore those possibilities, though the Commander had taken to ending his evenings with one or the other of his lovers. Lately the nightmares had gotten worse- Bel felt horrid about it, but was pleased he had the support he so desperately needed. Right now Cullen needed to concentrate on finding and demolishing Samson. Bel was willing to give him the room for that.

Dorian helping her pass the time was a pleasant surprise. Or at least it would have been a week ago. Now his touches, his light kisses, were something she couldn't imagine being without. He was always deliberate in his advances, and Bel quite believed that it was some fear of impropriety that kept Dorian so tentative. All their kisses had been in private, and while they alluded to further possibilities he seemed somewhat reluctant to act on any such urges. Maybe, Bel thought, Cullen got that part of him. Then she would see the little lust when she turned to fast, or her corseting slid from under a too-low blouse while she hurried to meet the diplomats, and she knew that wasn't quite the case. Somehow her dear friend was scared.

Dorian WAS, however, playful. Bel smiled at his insinuation, the invitation to spend the day with him. "I like the sound of that. And I know just the place." Quickly, ignoring the sound of Josephine heading towards the door, Bel grabbed Dorian by the wrist and pulled him down the staircase and down the halls.

"Amatus, where are you..." The mage's words stalled as they arrived and Bel quickly ducked into the small room. His eyes widened immensely, and he went to the shelves of the small library. "This is extraordinary! The volumes here are positively ancient."

"Unfortunately many of them are in elvish," the Dalish lamented. "Solas is the only one who could even begin to study them. There are a few volumes in the King's of course. One or two in dwarven, or so I'm told. However..."

With that, Bel gave a huge grin and turned to one of the shelves to grab a particular book. She was very gentle with it, like it could disintegrate any instant- and maybe it could. She held it out to Dorian, a huge grin on her face.

For his part, Dorian's jaw just dropped. A hand raised, but turned to a single finger as he traced the snake digit on the leather cover. "Vishante kaffas! Where did this come from?"

"Solas and I found it with the other books in this room. It seems this was somebody's private study once upon a time."

Dorian went to the desk, finding a clear spot and setting the volume in place. "You and Solas found this place together?"

Belathen just nodded. "Since I left my clan behind me, he's been kind enough to act as my hahren... teacher I suppose you would say. We were having a lesson in elvhen tales when we happened upon this place. It's a wealth of knowledge, Dorian, if only someone could reach out and grasp that wisdom!"

Dorian chuckled as he gingerly opened the cover of his own find. As anticipated, it was in Tevene. The dialect was archaic and clunky, but he would be able to muddle through. "I'm sure you'll find the strength, Bel."

It took an hour before Dorian shut the book. Bel stopped her reading as well, seated in a couch that had been brought in once she had claimed this place, and looked over where he had just closed the cover. He was looking at her, completely focused on the sight and leaning forward with a slight smile.

"Is there a problem, ma lath?"

"I... Not really. It's just that you're curling your hair around your finger..."

Bel glared back in disbelief. "Is that a problem?"

"It's distracting."

"Yes, well, love can do that." Belathen made a show of opening her book again and remarking, "It's distracting."

The silence that followed marked her mistake. Bel almost didn't want to look back up, fear gripping as she realized what she'd said. Neither had used the word 'love' before now, and it was so delicate a phrase...

Yet when she did manage to lift her eyes, Dorian was just smiling while keeping focus on her. "Sticky word, love," he admitted. "Why does it seem so apt?"

Bel swallowed hard, letting the fear dissipate. "I... Dorian, you've been one of my closest friends since we met. I know we'd said we should go slowly, but this last week I have realized how much deeper that can go. And that... well, Dorian, it turns out that 'love' is the right word. I love you."

As soon as she said it, Dorian was over in a flash. He sat beside her, practically pinning her down as he captured the elf in a kiss. It ended with the sound of a throat being cleared from the doorway. Bel forced herself to open her eyes and turn to see the intruder.

It was not Cullen.

It was Solas.

"Pardon me, Dorian. Lethallan. I need the blue leather-bound... Yes, that's it." With that, the elder elf grabbed the book offered by Dorian from behind them and rushed out, blushing lightly.

When he had left, Bel and Dorian sat in shocked silence a full minute before bursting into laughter.

"So. Love. Let me try this." Dorian took a deep breath, grabbing Belathen's hands. "I love you as well, Bela."

"You didn't have to..."

"No, I didn't. But I find I DO love you, so I did."

They never quite made it to lunch. When Cullen found them, they were still downstairs with the ancient volumes, Bel curled up on Dorian's lap while the mage read happily on. The elf was definitely awake, her fingers twirling to catch his. It was adorable to watch.

"So things are going well?" Cullen asked.

"I'm afraid so."

"And I think they will for quite a while."


	30. Out of the Bag

When Belathen started to wake, she was pleasantly amazed to find that she was actually warm. It wasn't the sensation of slight heat on her skin either; every morning, regardless of location, she always woke just above cool. Except today. This morning she was truly WARM. Belathen was tempted to simply snuggle in deeper, letting that heat lull her back to sleep for a while, but sighed as she realized she didn't have that luxury. Josephine had made it extremely clear that Bel's presence was needed to finalize the agreements with the visiting duke's retinue.

Begrudgingly the elf peeled her eyes open and took in the surroundings. Her room. The cat who always begged entry was laying between her legs, long orange fur perfectly groomed and shimmering...

And Bel was not alone. She was turned on her side as usual, curled against Cullen's chest, one of his arms around her protectively. The other stopped just under her neck, where his hand met another. On the other side Dorian was pressed against Bel's back, his breath warm against her neck. This, she decided, was the perfect way to wake up.

Lavellan made to sit up slowly, hesitant to get up. As soon as she tried she felt Cullen's strength grasping at her waist, trying to pull her down.

"Ma'enasalin," Belathen whimpered lightly into his ear, "it's morning. Josephine will pitch a fit."

"So what?"

"Cullen, you may have some time but I have to wake up." She pushed him gently, moving his arm off and sliding out of his hold. Cullen did grumble, but as soon as she was extricated he simply moved to curl closer to Dorian.

It had been a great evening actually. Belathen smiled as she thought about how long the trio had stayed up just talking, ending with all three falling asleep in the Inquisitor's quarters. Nothing had really happened other than chatting- yet it had still been exceedingly intimate, not to mention comfortable. This... held promise.

Those thoughts kept the Inquisitor company as she headed to the wardrobe. If there was one thing Bel actually appreciated about her new life, it was the clothing. Wardrobe choices were a welcome change in her routine, though she had little sense of fashion and let others pick. Usually at least. She had learned the basics: browns were out of season but did her complexion wonders so could be worked in surreptitiously; silver lining made her look more regal without insinuating true royalty- that sort of thing. Today's ensemble she had finally picked out herself based on her favorite rule: the deep greens made her eyes stand out even more, and those were one of her best features. Not to mention it was a desirable color this season.

Belathen had just finished brushing out her hair and fastening the front of her corseting when she felt deft, strong hands at her back. She turned her head slightly to see Cullen had popped up behind her, hands grabbing the lacing to tighten for her.

"You look delightful this morning."

"I'm still mostly unclothed, ma'enasalin," Bel chided. "What do you know?"

Cullen rested his chin on her shoulder, purring into her ear. "Maybe that's what I find so enticing."

Belathen almost decided to forget about Josephine right then and there, but caught her breath and with it her resolve. "Meetings, Cullen."

The former Templar tied off the corset and shrugged. "Suit yourself." With a kiss on her neck, he pulled away.

When Bel exited from her small wash area finally fully dressed, she caught Cullen and Dorian in a kiss that made her smile. They turned in tandem, both wide-eyed. The dress itself was simple, with a front that was cut a bit low; she'd added a necklace with a medallion that Cullen recognized immediately: it was made from the coin he had given her. "Alright," he admitted, "you do look better with the clothes on."

"I find that hard to believe," Dorian commented.

\- 0 - 0 - 0 -

The meeting went quickly, the duke's retinue eager to head out for home. Bel almost returned to change, but found herself whisked off for lunch by Dorian quite unexpectedly. They pulled up a table at the tavern, pulling their chairs around to the same side where they were obscured a bit in the shadows. Once they had finished their meal, the duo started with some light conversation that quickly escalated into surreptitious reaching under the table...

At least somewhat surreptitious.

"Nope. Not possible. How is THIS a thing?"

The duo turned to see a stricken Sera watching them, Cassandra and Iron Bull beside her looking on in amusement. Bel was sure she looked just as embarrassed as Dorian at the moment.

"I... ah..." The Inquisitor stammered, unable to keep going.

"I guess the cat's out of the bag now." Dorian sighed, shrugging. "Yes, Sera. This is a thing, as you put it."

The elf shook her head, glaring as she reached into her purse for coin and tossed it to the Seeker. She then turned to Lavellan and stuck out her tongue. "I hate losing coin."

If that was the biggest problem from the Circle, there would be no issue at all.


	31. Ancient Traditions

When the little kernel of uncertainty hit Belathen, it was with the full force of its power. She had no heart to bring it up to Cullen, and she was afraid mentioning any doubt to Dorian would cut off whatever it was that had set itself in motion. Instead, she carried the discomfort with her as she explored the Emerald Graves, for once only one warrior at her side. Mostly because Cullen would pitch a fit if she left Dorian behind (not to mention the mage's own disapproval) and in this place she needed her hahren's knowledge of the past. So she took Cassandra, since the Seeker was a closer friend and knew how to take a hit better than the Iron Bull in his furious rampages.

They were almost done searching this area. Only a few more days, Bel promised herself, and she would be back. The Emerald Graves were beautiful, but something about the massive green canopies of branches simply made her... melancholy. As if the ancestors were watching her here, and shaking their heads. After all, she HAD disappointed them, hadn't she? Figurehead of a shem religion, lover to two shemlen as well (well, almost two)... not to mention her inkling to want a true relationship with both! They would be horrified!

Once camp was made, Belathen made sure Dorian was entranced in the book he'd brought for this excursion before heading up to the hilltop. From here she could see the river, the markings left, and the grove of true, proven vallasdahlen. It was a beautiful sight. If she didn't know better how it came to be, she might think it beautiful herself. Instead it reminded her of everything the elvhen had lost- she was no Keeper, but in such a unique position she felt she should be doing something more for the Dalish.

Belathen was hunter enough, however, that even with her thoughts turned inward she still heard the quiet footsteps. Cassandra's were always so heavy, as these were not, and Dorian had a very telling gait that she could hear in each touch of his shoes to the ground. No, only Solas walked so close to silently, so much like a hunter that if she hadn't seen how he cast magic Bel would have sworn that he was meant to be chasing prey. Without turning, the Dalish woman gave a sigh and greeted her unexpected intruder.

"Aneth ara, hahren."

"Vir enansal," Solas returned. "I am surprised to see you on your own, lethallan." (Mini A/N: I wanted a response to the elvish greeting and thought this fit quite well. The literal translation would be 'the path to the gift' but with the tendency of elvhen to be lyrical it would be closer to 'this way has given a gift')

Belathen sighed, shifting to lay on her back and up at the bright afternoon sky as it just started to darken. "Did someone need something?"

"What? Oh! No. I simply imagined at least Dorian would be nearby."

"He is lost in some volume he grabbed from Skyhold."

"That... may be my fault. He asked about elvhen language and customs, so I lent him the same book I gave Cullen when he inquired."

"Then I've lost him for the night." A smile slipped to Bel's lips, resulting in a chuckle. Then, a bit serious, she added, "I do apologize. When you walked in... if it was uncomfortable."

Solas had that smug smile. Bel couldn't see it, but she heard it as he responded, "Who you allow to court you is your affair, lethallan."

That was not what she had expected. "Out of curiosity, why so calm about it? I know you aren't Dalish by any means, but I can't imagine this was something you've seen the elvhen do in the Fade."

"And what if I have?" It wasn't the response but the quickness of it, the strength and amusement in his voice, that truly was startling. "You are hardly the first to find that you have room in your heart for two, ma da'sha."

"So you've seen this...often?"

Solas sat down beside her, looking up into the sky from her side. "Your valleslin are of Andruil. I take it you are familiar with the Vir Tanadahl, yes?"

Belathen was intrigued, answering. "Of course. Together we are stronger than the one." Realization hit Bel quickly. "Do your mean to tell me that followers of Andruil used the Vir Tanadahl as a philosophy for more than just hunting?"

Solas was quiet for a few minutes. Likely, Bel knew, picking his words. When he did speak, it was quieter than normal. "In some of the oldest versions of their story, I may have encountered the thought that Andruil and Ghilan'nain shared a single love with another, and the three of them created the tennets together. Her hunters took that as leave to make similar relationships of their own."

Belathen considered that. Not trysts, not hidden kisses in the shadows. Relationships. It gave her hope. "So my feelings are completely natural. This could even be a step towards reclaiming some of our true traditions, rather than what we are left with after centuries of fighting."

"That... yes, I suppose that is very true."

Belathen watched the sky again, considering the implications. Maybe she wasn't such a disappointment if she could bring back this one piece of the past...

"Hahren?"

"Yes, lethallan?"

"Who was the third?" He didn't answer, but Bel pressed. "Obviously Andruil is the origin the primary tennet: fly straight and do not waver. I can see Gilan'nain as the vir adahlen. I am curious about the bow."

It was a good long time before Solas spoke. "From my understanding, Andruil is the one who was credited with bend but do not break. The vir assan would have been... whoever they chose to love."

"Hmm." Then, thoughtful, Bel rolled back up and to her feet. "I should go back."

"I will return later. I should like to remain a moment."

"Wish me luck getting Dorian's nose from his book."

Belathen moved so quickly she missed the blush on Solas' cheeks as he watched the clouds across the sky- memories of happy times rampant. It had been long ago, but he could still remember each touch, every evening spent with true companionship.

"Fly straight," he reminded himself with a quiet whisper, "and do not waver."


	32. Well and Thoroughly

When Giselle confronted Belathen this time, it was in the middle of the throne room- which happened to be filled with visitors to Skyhold. At first, the elf saw the Chantry Mother's expectant face and simply shook her head.

"I still need Leliana, Mother Giselle," she whispered dangerously, trying to keep her voice lowered under the dinn of the crowd. "She will return to Val Royeaux and take her place as Divine when Corypheus is dead."

"That is not my concern. Not today." The dark skinned mother frowned tightly, eyes darting around the room. "Rumors have grown, your worship. I know you dismissed my concern last time, but..."

"Really?" Belathen sighed, raising a hand to her forehead to ward off the stress headache that was certain to follow. "The Tevinter thing AGAIN?" She couldn't help her voice elevating slightly, drawing attention from those around her. "I'm not changing my mind."

"Please reconsider, Inquisitor! I know he is your friend, but..."

"Am I interrupting?" Cullen's voice and presence beside her was a definite gift from the Creators. Bel leaned into his embrace as he wrapped his arms around her in a show of support, glaring at the Chantry Mother, and the elf felt all her lingering fears disappear.

"Not at all, Commander. Mother Giselle was just leaving."

"I most certainly was not."

"Yes," Cullen suggested. "You were."

"I will not be bullied into silence. You are a man of Andraste, Commander. Please talk some sense into the Inquisitor. Her dealings with that Tevinter mage are going to get us all exiled or worse!"

Cullen had a look of absolute disbelief. "Dorian? But he's..."

"A palpable danger. The rumor alone..."

Belathen rolled her eyes and looked up, her obvious dismissal stopping the diatribe. She spotted the mage in question talking with Varric, though Dorian seemed distracted by the yelling since he met her eyes and mouthed a silent 'Sorry.' He looked genuinely apologetic too. That would not stand. There was nothing to hide, or be embarrassed about, even here.

"Mother Giselle," Belathen stated, forcing herself to look stern, "if I may put those rumors to rest?"

"Gladly." She looked so smug, so certain... Even Cullen had a questioning, uncertain expression on his face. The dalish elf didn't even pay either attention, turning and marching right to where Dorian sat- no longer talking with the dwarf, as Varric had reflexively pulled out a paper and quill.

Bel took a seat beside the mage. "Dorian, ma lath, do you have a minute?"

"In private or public, my sweet little snowdrop?"

"This will be so much more amusing in public," Belathen noted with a glint in her eye, leaning in and whispering in his ear. "You, Dorian, are going to kiss me. Do try to make it convincing."

The mage pulled back in some shock, meeting her eyes. "Bel, I'm not sure..."

"I am." With that, the elven woman leaned back in and stole her kiss. After a half-second of shock Dorian accepted what was happening and relaxed, seizing the initiative to grab on and inject some passion into the activity. It finished with both of them breathless, staring at each other; oddly enough, it was the Inquisitor who was blushing, with Dorian simply chuckled.

Both of them were pulled out of the moment by a whistle from Varric as they realized it was the only sound in the room. "Damn, Sparkler," the dwarf noted, scribbling notes.

The next sound was a very displeased, almost mournful, "I thought... but Commander Cullen..."

"Is quite pleased with the situation," Cullen noted, folding his arms defiantly even while he smiled. "Choose your battles."

"But this is worse than I imagined! Andraste would..."

"If memory of my lessons serves, Andraste claimed two husbands. I believe we can give her Herald a little leniency."

"Andraste lost her life due to Maferath's jealousy," Giselle pointed out.

"Then I am lucky that Cullen and Dorian speak more than Maferath did to the Maker," Belathen sighed.

"If this is ordained, then I suppose I'll step aside, though it is highly unusual."

Bel rolled her eyes, glancing back to Josephine's office. The Antivan was nodding her head emphatically, so Bel shrugged and sighed. "If it helps you sleep at night, sure- we'll go with that."

The chantry mother nodded stiffly and departed, leaving the room to talk. Which is when it truly hit the Inquisitor what had just happened. She looked from Cullen to Dorian and back before glancing around the room. People were starting to return to their conversations, though in some cases it was very obviously a ruse. Bel felt her blush deepen.

"Snowdrop, are you alright?" Dorian came behind her, whispering in concern even as he pulled her into a hug.

"Creators, that just happened, didn't it?" Her voice was a gasping whisper, surprise at her own actions thick in her tone.

"It did," Cullen assured, taking her hand. "That could have gone much worse, actually."

"You were brilliant, ma enasalin."

"He WAS, wasn't he?"

"I... thank you."

"I think," Dorian suggested, "he should be rewarded."

"Agreed." Belathen smiled, slipping out from the hold of both men. "Dorian, ma lath, I'll leave that... reward... to you. Josie has been gesturing frantically since that harpy left."

The two men shared a glance and rushed out the front door, not needing any further prodding to take the rest of the evening to themselves. Then, trying to look slightly sheepish, Belathen went up to Josephine.

"Ambassador."

"That was... an interesting display. Cullen has an excellent response for our main allies; I will be sure to use his point."

"I'm sorry if I made your job harder."

"It's thrilling, though, is it not? We will make this look righteous. Tomorrow." At that, Josephine lightened further. "You have a guest. I'll leave you to my office."

"A guest? What, some important dignitary?"

"After a fashion." Josephine grinned like the cat who attired the canary. "Not like our normal visitors. She's an elf- one of the dalish."

That made sense. "I will be happy to receive her."

"She insisted she see you alone," the ambassador added, "but the guards will be close should you need them."

Bel nodded her understanding and pushed the doors open.

"My apologies," the Inquisitor started. "I was..." Then she looked up and saw the familiar blonde hair, loose and shimmering like gold in the candlelight. Her mouth went dry and the words rushed from her mind. All she could do was dumbly state the obvious. "Ellana?"

The blonde keeper jumped to her feet excitedly. "I know you didn't mean those words," she insisted, immediately bounding over and squeezing her former lover tightly. "I couldn't rest until I found the truth, and with how desperate the clan has become..."

"Ellie..."

"You don't need to say anything. I know the shems forces you to give up on me. On us. We'll set them to rights." With that said, Ellana reached to brush a finger along the edge of Bel's valleslin and pulled the other woman in closer. "You don't have to pretend anymore."

Even as Belathen tried to say no, Ellana pressed her lips hard to the other elf's and forced a kiss. Bel couldn't help the emotions, the feelings that returned, and found herself briefly returning it...


	33. Thank the Nightingale

The minute pressed into that kiss was exhilarating, making Bel's heart flutter. Her eyes shut by instinct, and her mind wandered. Memories pulled at the edge of her mind, stolen moments- and someone she cared for returning her affection. Her breath came out in a gasp, and soon she had to pull out.

"Cullen." It was instinctual. This was Cullen's type of kiss...

"What?" 

The voice was all wrong. Bel's eyes flew open, and she backed away in shock. Her mind filled the blanks, her heart hammering at the error. "No." The word was loud, but not nearly as resounding as it was in her mind. When she repeated it again, it was definitely closer in volume to what she heard. "No."

When Bel backed up to the strong wooden door, she could see Ellana's confusion; this was followed by the door opening and a very distinctive Orlesian accent asking, "Is everything alright, Inquisitor?"

"I..." Bel forced herself to concentrate on what was happening rather than her emotions going wild. "The Keeper of Clan Lavellan was just telling me about some issues her clan was experiencing. I believe another ear may be necessary." The elven Inquisitor turned to Leliana and let her eyes do the pleading: do not leave me alone with her. The bard smiled falsely and took a seat on top of Josephine's desk as she was introduced, joined presently by Bel as Ellana sat in the chair.

"I..." The presence of another person definitely intimidated the purely Dalish woman, just as it would have Bel at the start. "Lavellan has been struggling. We have nowhere to go and our numbers are small. Even... I am the only mage left, my husband dead of the plague illness."

Belathen reached out in sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear it, Ellie."

Ellana looked up, crying. "I had to make a choice. So many in the Marches were hostile, and... I knew you might be able to help. As a Lavellan."

Belathen considered, looking to Leliana for guidance. When her fellow rogue nodded assent, Bel drew on her knowledge of elven customs and responded to the pleas. "Andaran atish'an, lethallan. Ar lasa mala halani."

The other elf looked up, surprised and disappointed by the formality in the words. "Ma serranas, lethallan. Ir'in nehn..." Here Ellana stopped and pointedly met Bel's eyes and bit her bottom lip before finishing. "Ma vhenan."

It should have made her floaty again, but all Bel could feel was cold. "Ellie..." she started.

Luckily, that was when the main door opened. Cullen looked a bit breathless, and had obviously hurried to pull himself together. For once, the Inquisitor was thankful her spymaster was meddlesome. Letting out a sigh of relief, Belathen pushed off the desk and hurried to him. "Ma'enasalin. I apologize for interrupting your evening."

Cullen gave his biggest, most unguarded smile. "Anything for you, Bela." He reached for her hand, placing a soft kiss on the top of it. "It is my pleasure." And Leliana's runner had obviously been given more information than Bel had anticipated, because Cullen had amped up the charm to maximum and he seemed to change focus slightly to smirk at Ellana. Oh he was good at this. 

"Keeper Lavellan, this is Commander Cullen. He keeps my forces in check."

"The men spoke highly of him when they came to assist us," Ellie noted, sizing him up as if he was actual competition. She swallowed hard. "I... ah..."

"You must forgive me, but Bel's never mentioned you," Cullen noted smoothly. "You would have been... the Keeper? Isn't that an authority position?"

"I was Lavellan's First at the time- the Keeper's heir. With her death the clan fell to me." She sounded aggravated at having to explain- or was it heading her former lover rarely spoke of her. "Asha'eir..."

"I no longer am known by that name," Bel followed up.

"I see." That was surprise in her voice, and maybe a little... "I shouldn't have come." Sadness. Definitely sadness.

"You needed aide. Lavellan needs aide," Belathen pointed out. "You came out of good will, yes?"

Blinking her disappointment back, Ellana nodded. "Yes."

"How many does Lavellan number?"

"We are... ten strong."

Too few. "Skyhold is at your disposal. Consider yourself under the Inquisition's protection until you choose to leave."

Ellana blinked, glaring. "Bel- vhenan..."

"No." Then, smartly, the Inquisitor added, "If you need anything more, I suggest you speak with Solas. He is... one of my magical advisors, and while he is not technically of the people I find his guidance unparalleled in regards to elvhen matters. I apologize, but I will be... busy. Cullen and I have important matters which require tending. Isn't that right?"

"It is, my love... I mean, Inquisitor." Cheeky planned slip of the tongue. His eye glinted mirth fully too, that little scar twitching with a barely contained chuckle.

"Leliana, can you have a scout find rooms for my clansmen? Maybe... Overlooking the garden from the hall."

And putting the elves right by Vivienne. Belathen might not prank often, but some opportunities were too good to pass up. Leliana had to put a hand to her mouth, covering her amused smile. "Of course, Bela." Even that small familiarity made Ellana bristle. Not that she was in a position to say anything.

When Cullen took Bel by the arm and led her out, stating "Important business," the duo immediately broke into a run up the stairs towards Belathen's quarters.

"Your former lover just showed up out of the blue?" Cullen asked, finally laughing.

"Don't ask me! I told her not to bug me." Bel was laughing just as hard, feeling quickly winded.

"Think she gets the hint?"

"If not the talk around Skyhold will definitely clear things up." She curled into a ball against the wall, comforted to find Cullen settling beside her and pulling her close to his side. "For as bad as it started that was fun by the end."

"I shouldn't have..."

"Cullen!" Bel playfully pushed off and punched into his shoulder. "Don't you dare. None of us could expect what happened."

"I still should have been there. It concerned Leliana enough." Frowning, Cullen asked, "What did she do?"

"Nothing Leliana couldn't handle."

Cullen sighed. "I know it's impossible to ask you to stay out of danger," he noted, "but is it really too much to ask that you not do so alone?"

Belathen tipped her head, resting against him. "Sometimes it is," she admitted. "But I promise I will never get lax about it." Then, clearing her throat, Bel stretched and got to her feet. "Nothing else is getting me tonight. I'm just going to bed."

"I..."

"Should get back to Dorian for your prize," Bel suggested. "You earned it tenfold beyond what you had before now."

Cullen looked about to protest, but Bel just offered a hand to help him off the ground. He took it and pulled her in for a kiss. "You're sure you will be alright?"

"I love you, ma enasalin. I will be fine."

"If you're certain."

When he left, Belathen looked outside. Fall was rushing towards them, and the breeze that came in was cool. The elf stretched a bit and went to the fire, starting the flames and stoking the fire until she was confident it would stay. Then she went to the desk and checked her map.

She had no more excuses. The Hissing Wastes could wait. It was time to head into the Wilds- but first she would have to face one of her greater fears. Samson awaited, and Cullen would not be willing to stay behind.


	34. Well THAT Changes Everything

When Ellana dragged herself out of bed it was with a terrible headache. She had been awake for hours, her sleep being plagued by nightmares of a dark figure with glowing red eyes hunting her as she ran through the woods. Between that and guilt at her stupidity, Ellie had given up on rest and simply tried to ignore the cold sweat that created discomfort. The sounds of some bustling drew her out of bed and out to overlook the main hall. She was careful to slip quietly as possible away from Madame de Fer- their brief meeting the previous night had grated badly enough, and Ellana had no desire to repeat the experience.

The noises turned out to be Belathen making her way out of the hall. Ellana watched as her oldest, once closest friend sat beside a strange bald elf chatting while playing with and biting into an apple in turns. There was an animation to their conversation that sent a slight pang through Ellana, and she wished briefly it was her place to join them.

It was bad enough that she had no chance of rebuilding the past, but it was a sharp sadness that suggested she had damaged their friendship as well. Ellie sighed, catching as a different male from last night approached- though Creators knew he was just as handsome as that Cullen!- and pressed a kiss to Bel's cheek. When Bel pouted, he seemed to relent and give her a real kiss, which Bela certainly was comfortable relaxing into. The pair grabbed hands and rushed out the door together at that, sparing a wave to the elvhen man without valleslin as they hurried.

Ellana watched with a strong jealousy taking over, almost shaking. It was her fault yes but... no, she sighed. No but. She went down the ladder steps, defeated, and approached the odd elf.

"Aneth ara," Ellana greeted reflexively.

She was surprised to hear the greeting repeated back, and with a stronger flourish in the cadence. "Aneth ara, da'len."

Ellana opened her mouth to protest but looked him over. He was definitely the older, and something in how he held himself...

"It is a pleasure to meet you, hahren. I was looking for a person the Inquisitor suggested I speak with. Solas, she called him. Would you be him?"

"You must be Keeper Ellana of Lavellan," Solas noted. "I trust you had pleasant dreams."

"I..." Ellana paused, forcing herself not to dwell on the strange nightmares. "After a fashion."

"I am indeed Solas. I am, as the Inquisitor suggested, at your service. Might I suggest we speak somewhere out of foot traffic?"

Ellana nodded slowly, finding herself guided to a large, brightly painted room. It was magnificent, the colors contrasting yet complimenting at once, and her breath caught. "This is..." She saw the scaffold, and the flecks of paint in her guide's hand. "Did you do this?"

Solas simply shrugged in response. "I painted it, if that is what you mean. The deeds depicted are what ma da'sha has accomplished." When Ellie looked over quizzically, Solas clarified, "The Inquisitor."

Ellana looked over the paintings again. "Bel has been busy then, it seems." Her hand reached to one of the older frescos, stopping just short of touching it. "Why the wolves, hahren?"

Solas spun around, looking where she was and smiling. "Why not? They are strong predators, but also possess intellect. The strong have nothing to fear from wolves, da'len."

Ellana considered that as he offered her a seat by the desk. "I suppose you are right," she admitted. "The Dalish have feared wolves for far too long for me to leave the superstition behind immediately, but your point is valid."

The answer seemed to surprise Solas. "I suppose generations of tradition and myth are difficult to overcome," he relented, "even if it is in our best interests."

Ellana looked over the desk briefly. The books he had gathered were strange, rare. Her eyes narrowed in interest, her attention fully distracted by the titles. "These are fascinating, hahren!"

Solas had a smirk of amusement at Ellie's childlike antics and enthusiasm as she turned her head, browsing the titles with a grin. "Da'len... Keeper Ellana... did you have a purpose in seeking me out?"

"I wasn't sure at first," Ellana noted. Then she looked up to meet his eyes. Stormy, brilliant... Creators, at least his eyes were gorgeous. She halted before adding, "I honestly had no idea why I even ventured here. Now... My clan is few, but we are smart. Strong. I wish- that is, I need to learn. If I will lead a small clan, we will make sure we hold the traditions the closest. True traditions. Not what we've been force fed by our elders. My understanding is you may be able to assist in this?"

Solas blinked back his stunned expression. "Then- dirthera ma, lethallan." He pulled one book out, opening to a premarked page and handing it over. "Let's start here..."


	35. Seeing Red

Belathen had taken to the treetops. Her shining Inquisition armor lay in a pile by the campsite alongside her shoes, left behind along with her pack and everything else besides her bow and the Dalish leather she had lived in for so many years. Yes her daggers were a part of her, but the bow had a familiarity and grace she had all but forgotten. The curve spoke to her, begging for her fingers to strum it as if it were an instrument. This was an old skill, and one she took pleasure in.

Wolves. She saw them near the graceful deer around the few open areas, and fired shots to warn them away, but did not hurt them. She left those deer alone as well. Easy shots, requiring little finesse: a beginner's prey. She focused downwards. There, just in the grass of the meadow, was a full grown rabbit. From the exceptional size this was almost certainly a male, and his dark color proclaimed he was nobody's wayward pet. Belathen took aim and loosed the arrow expertly, a precision to her work that she had not experienced before becoming Inquisitor.

It seemed the title and resulting training were good for something.

Bel had downed three of the rabbits without disturbing the deer when her ears picked up someone approaching. The sound actually have her relief, for as heavy as the steps were. The deer looked up at the sound, though did not run. Satisfied, Belathen slid from her perch and to the ground directly next to Cullen.

"Feeling better?"

Cullen blushed slightly at her question but nodded. "I do apologize if I worried you."

"Ma'enasalin!" The rebuke in her voice was louder, obvious. "Do not apologize for what you can't control."

"I thought I was stronger," he explained. "I actually imagined it somehow would fail to affect me."

Belathen shook her head. "Cullen. Do you have any idea why I was so against you coming?"

The commander shook his head, admitting, "To be honest it's not a mentality I understand. If I had my way..."

"You'd stick by my side all the time and our forces would suffer." She smiled at him sweetly, seeing that little widening of his eyes. "Just as you want me safe, I want you to be able to leave the past behind. I know the concentration of so much of that red shit everywhere must have been difficult, but I also know your strength better than anyone. You won't be taken out by lyrium. Of any color. Come on."

Cullen followed her to the clearing. "Bel... I don't know what to say."

"Maybe an admission that being around that much red lyrium was a bad idea?" Her suggestion hung in the air, accusing. "I could have taken care of this Cullen!"

"You're affected by it as well. Don't think I didn't notice." Cullen sighed, adding, "I don't know how to explain, but I needed to be here."

"Wanted."

Cullen looked around the field, seeing the standing deer. "You... missed?"

Belathen chuckled as she bent down to earth be of the spots, picking up her arrow with the mercifully dead rabbit on the end. "Assuredly," she mocked, snapping the wood shaft and tying the legs to toss the creature destined for dinner over her shoulder. "I've heard a lot of people prefer nug, but this far north we only get these furry rabbits."

Cullen took quickly to helping gather the last of Bel's hunting, a companionable silence taking over. They grabbed hands as they returned to the campsite together, neither really wanting to think about what came next.

Because there was no getting around it. It was time to head to the Arbor Wilds, following Morrigan's suggestion; this would be the moment to make or break the Inquisition. And both of them feared the potential results.

Those fears simply could not last inside the circle at camp. Cassandra was calmly astride Bull's back, reaching up to help sharpen the edge of his horns while giving them a seductively loving polish as she went. And Dorian looked up as soon as they entered, relief and recrimination as he glowered.

"Amati. I'm glad you chose to come back."

"I was finding dinner?" It was a question, and Bel's voice was definitely wavering under his glare. She wasn't going to explain however. He had to know that she had been alone, feeling helpless while Dorian was able to help with the worst of the afternoon. After leaving the Shrine of Dumat, when everything was clearer, Cullen had finally given in to the headache that had been building. Only it wasn't just a headache; proximity to that magnitude of red lyrium had taken a toll and sent him briefly back to some of the worst withdrawal symptoms. Dorian knew just enough healing to aide; Cassandra and Bull had... made themselves scarce once camp was set. With no way to be of use, Bel had decided to momentarily stop being the Inquisitor and go back to being a simple hunter. Just for a few hours.

Apparently she had managed to frighten Dorian. Cullen knew her well enough that once he was feeling less likely to fall over and die, he'd immediately figured out what the stack of belongings in the middle of camp indicated. Had he not explained?

No. Seeing the sheepish expression on her commander Belathen realized he had simply run after her instead.

"You two," Dorian accused, "are trying to kill me. There's no other explanation."

Cullen looked horrified by the implication.

Bel just rolled her eyes. "Dorian, ma lath, if that were the case you would be very aware."

It was a week later, the night they returned and just before they were leaving for the Arbor Wilds, when Dorian conceded that matter. It was in the Inquisitor's quarters, next to her in bed, and he had to laugh as the phrase came back to him. Every relationship was full of firsts- and tonight was several that would be unforgettable. It had been very different than with Cullen, with a different expectation of what came afterwards, and somehow it only added to the strength of that first shared experience.

"Bel?"

"Yes, Dorian?"

"You were right. When you're actually trying to kill me, I know."

"That explains the thing with the curtains." The elf laughed along with him and threw a pillow in his face before rolling to her side and curling into her companion. "Consider that a warning then."

"I suppose I have to forgive you in that case."

"Hmm. Ar lath ma, Dorian."

"And I you, ma sa'sha."

Hearing the words actually got her to pause and sigh happily. "You... you learned... for me?"

"I wouldn't have any other reason for picking up a mostly dead language."

"And...sa'sha?"

"Yes. Well." He cleared his throat, squeezing her in tightly. "Is it that odd to think you are the only girl for me?"

"That is- unexpectedly sweet. You should know, when it comes to elvhen Cullen has trouble," Bel admitted. "But... not you, apparently. Thank you, ma lath."

When the morning and there would be preparations and exits, but not now. Now there was just a quiet moment of calm before a very disconcerting storm.


	36. Knowledge as Power

It was a double-edged sword. Both Cullen and Dorian were keenly aware of the fact that when it came to Belathen's natural desire for truth and wisdom, the situation was extraordinarily complex. On one hand, her intelligence was a saving grace; it made her adaptable, and was the reason that even as a Dalish she was able to captivate Empress Celene's court so thoroughly. On the other finger however it was her keen curiosity and quest for knowledge that so often meant she made the striking decisions that baffled her companions, and often got her into trouble. Like the time she climbed to the top of the great hall, just to see what the Frostbacks looked like from the precarious position (apparently, it was breathtaking).

Or now.

Cullen had just returned, making a hasty dash to Skyhold the minute a bird brought word that both Bel and Dorian were somehow returned there and... relatively alright. The wording had concerned him greatly, as had the fact that the Inquisitor didn't write any words herself. She always at least wrote a word when she knew the page was destined to him- and this one had his name on it. So he was tentative as he went directly to her room in spite of the late hour, waving to a perplexed guard at the door before pushing his way in.

The fire was going. Belathen being so cool-blooded that was no surprise. She was curled on the rug in front of the source of heat, a blanket around her shoulders and what seemed like an old book on the floor beside her. Cullen picked it up and instantly recognized it from the downstairs library, even if the title itself looked like gibberish to him. As he recalled, originally it had been utterly incomprehensible to her at the time as well. So how was it up here? Why?

"Bella." Cullen sat down beside her, very careful to wake her gently.

The little elven woman turned over slightly. Whatever she said next made no sense at all, but one eye started to peek and then proceeded to fly open as recognition dawned. "Cullen!" In an instant her arms were around his shoulders, as if she was desperate to be closer to him. Cullen allowed that, pulling her up and onto his lap.

"I see you found some... light reading," Cullen pointed out, gesturing to the book.

Belathen actually reddened. "Turns out what we found was something of a... personal library. That book is basically the elvhen equivalent of 'Swords and Shields'."

Cullen had to laugh. "So the title we couldn't read?"

"Is not suitable to be read aloud!"

"You know I'm not upset, but..." How to best ask? "How are you reading that?"

Belathen shuddered a bit. "I... well, Cullen, you see..."

"I won't be mad."

With that, the Inquisitor met her commander's eyes. "Remember when we were trying to figure out what was meant by Samson being picked as the vessel? I found the answer. Corypheus learned that the knowledge of all Mythal's servants was available... for someone willing to pay a price to gain that knowledge."

Cullen watched as she tried to look away, but raised a hand to stop her movement. He tipped her chin to look into his eyes as he noted, "If anyone is capable of holding that wisdom it should be you."

Belathen let out a sigh, the breath she had hardly even known she was holding in. Tears came to her eyes, her head burying into his chest. "Ma'enasalin, I need your strength. Desperately. I... I don't think..." Then, slower, quieter, she admitted, "I believe I made a mistake."

"And why is that?"

"This Well, this knowledge- it burns, ma'lath." She paused, trying to explain. "I feel a tug, like something has latched onto me. One moment I'm reading this," she explained, gesturing to the book, "and the next nothing makes sense. Apparently I spent most of one day unable to remember how to speak the trade tongue, Cullen. A DAY!"

"Bella." He kept his voice even, soothing. "Calm down. It may just take time. I'll be here. Dorian will be here. You aren't going through this alone."

Instead of easing, that just got the slight elf in his arms to shudder again. "I'm not sure. Dorian was more than a little upset when I saw him last." Frowning, she added, "Whatever he said in Tevene sounded less than flattering."

Cullen hugged her tighter. "We will make that right, too."

It took an hour before Bel fell into a restful sleep. Cullen took a moment to feed the flames in the fireplace before going to find the mage, concerned about what thoughts might be going through this particular partner's head.

As it was, Cullen found Dorian in his usual alcove in the library, trying and failing miserably at pretending to read. He looked up when Cullen approached, shaking his head. "Did you see her yet?"

"I have."

"I... have some concerns."

"She mentioned." Cullen tried to balance his emotions, one part of his mind wanting to hear Dorian out while the other felt desperate to defend Lavellan. "You hurt her, Dorian. I'm trying to understand why."

When Dorian winced in response, Cullen decided to truly listen to the answer.

"The guardian and Morrigan both claimed the Well has a terrible price. I'm not too keen on her taking that kind of chance. I really didn't imagine you would either, come to think of it."

Cullen had to admit that the explanation made sense. And yet...

"And I'M the overprotective one?" The former Templar just shook his head, the experience feeling mad. "Let me ask. When did you know what she was going to do?"

The mage sighed. "As soon as the guardian explained what the Well contained, I knew we'd lost her," he admitted.

"Was anything going to change her mind?"

"If... maybe I could have... if you had..." Then, finally, "No. Nothing was going to make a difference."

"Then why be mad at her for being herself?"

If Belathen wasn't the kind to seek knowledge, she wouldn't have been a close enough friend to become a lover. If she didn't take chances, she would never have been the Inquisitor- or at the Conclave in the first place. It had been a very specific set of circumstances that brought the three of them together.

"I've really stuck my foot in it this time, haven't I?" Dorian realized.

"Maybe a bit."

"I should apologize."

"I find begging works wonders."

Dorian hit Cullen playfully on the shoulder. "You're terrible, amatus."

Cullen smiled as he took the hit, grabbing Dorian's hand before he could pull it fully away. "And that's why you love me."

"I suppose that's true."


	37. Little Fears

Ellana had taken to staying out of her room and remaining by Solas most of the night. When she wasn't there, she tended to head over to Herald's Rest for the most interesting conversations with the blonde archer there. Sera spoke a lot but said little, and the new Lavellan keeper determined it was very much a reflex of purpose. Ellie was happy to spend time listening to the nonsense- it felt real, or at least more so than most of the others here.

When Bel returned, spectacularly and obviously worse for wear, Ellana had been exceedingly concerned for her friend. She had that horrible inkling, wishing she had done things differently so that she was not 'persona non grata' (as the Tevinter man at Bel's side had harshly suggested) and could at least be assured her friend was okay. It wasn't to be however- Solas, the one person who could have explained anything, was pointedly avoiding contact with Belathen. It was obvious.

Which brought Ellana to the tavern. She was just sitting down when she heard a sound beside her.

"Hey. You." When Ellana turned to Sera with a dumbfounded look, the city elf reiterated, "Yeah, you. Elfy elf. Do you like cookies?"

"What?"

"Cookies. Do you like them?"

Ellana closed her eyes and tried to think. She could imagine what the supposed treat looked like of course, rich and gooey and warm, but it wasn't as though there were ovens on aravels. The closest she had tasted were honey cakes made in a campfire, and she hadn't had those since she was a girl stealing them with Bel.

"I've never had cookies," Ellana admitted. "I have no idea."

"Well that's stupid. Elfy elves with no concept of cookies." The blonde stood with a huff and grabbed Ellie's arm. "Well come on."

"What are..."

"We need to find out if you like cookies, yeah? So let's make some cookies!"

Two hours later and covered in flour, Ellana rolled her eyes. If it was possible, Sera was even more caked in dough than she was; it was even in the elf's hair of all places! Then the result of their labor was presented to Ellana- a little lump of beige with brown pieces of some northern candy the Inquisition had managed to get hold of popping out of it from all odd angles. Ellana glared at it a moment.

"Is this..?"

"It's a cookie. You eat it."

Ellana nodded- that much she knew, but... "I suppose." She closed her eyes and took a big bite.

It was barely something she could swallow. "Creators blast it! If I didn't taste it I wouldn't imagine anything this... this... sickeningly SWEET." She handed it to Sera. "I do NOT like cookies."

Sera blinked in surprise before smiling. "Neither do I."

"Then why did we make these?"

"Because Inky and Sparklefingers like cookies, and I kinda still owe both of them for help on a prank a while back." Sera shrugged. "Come on then." Sera took the plate of cookies and, still covered in flour, headed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Ellana followed dumbly until Sera approached a door Ellie knew very well.

"Sera, I..."

"You're with me, ain't you? Come on! It'll be fine." And with that, the dough-covered blondes payed up the extensive staircase and up to the Inquisitor's door. Sera didn't knock, but bellowed. "Inky! Cookies for you!" before grabbing the handle and crashed through the door. Then, averting her eyes, she added, "Maker, tell me you're decent." With that thought, Ellana stalled and didn't enter.

"We're dressed, Sera," Bel sighed. With that, Ellie pushed her head in...

Belathen was in the midst of a chess game, the board sprawled on the bed much as the Inquisitor herself. Her opponent was the Tevinter mage, though Cullen was nearby offering advice as the two moved pieces across the board. Of the three the Commander was the only one in any state of undress, in the process of pulling on a clean shirt as he tossed the other away from what seemed some mishap with tea leaves. He turned ever so slightly, and... was that..?

Sera was snickering. Cullen pulled the top on swiftly and rolled his eyes. "What..?"

It was Dorian, however, who quickly interjected, glaring at Ellana. "What are YOU doing here?"

"Don't be daft," Sera defended. "She helped me with the cookies." The rogue pushed the plate into Dorian's hands and stepped back. "Unless you don't want 'em."

Belathen blinked and considered the duo, dough and all. She started laughing. Hard. "Ellie, I think you've been pranked."

"What?"

Now Sera was giggling as well. "Worth it."

"I don't get it."

"Dough, yeah? You're covered in it. It's HILARIOUS! Silly elfy elf all... battered up and the like."

Ellana squeaked. "A prank?" she asked, mousily quiet.

"Sera..." Dorian sounded warning, almost upset, but Bela raised a hand and shook her head.

"She's right. It was worth it." Then, quieter, "Besides, it isn't like Ellie is my biggest issue right now."

"Bel..."

"Don't." Belathen looked to her dough-splattered friends and laughed again. "Get cleaned up you two."

Ellana smiled gratefully, and caught her friend's eye with a light and friendly wink. At least there wasn't animosity, at least not much anymore. She bounded down the stairs feeling lighter somehow...

And bounded right into Solas.

"Is this some new ritual you've uncovered, lethallan?" he asked, trying to remain stoic but failing in his eyes. Those damn eyes, always.

"It's... I was... making cookies."

"Obviously."

"With Sera."

"I see." He stuck out a finger, gripping gently behind her ear, only to pull off a light layer of the dough. He licked it lightly and blinked. "Not a bad attempt."

"I found out cookies are too sweet for me."

"So no second attempt?"

"Not... for myself," Ellana suggested. Her cheeks felt like they were burning- could a person blush to death? "Maybe if I had someone to bake for."

Solas chuckled. "That is an an interesting search," he admitted, turning to head towards the small rotunda.

It was a stupid impulse. Ellana knew it immediately. Even so, she couldn't help reaching for him, pulling his head nearer and giving a shy kiss. She immediately felt her cheeks color even more, and saw the shock on his face as she hurried to pull away. She had been so stupid...

Then he turned to her fully, pulling her in and kissing back. It lasted a good minute before he snapped back suddenly, a look of horror on his face. "We shouldn't. It... isn't right."

Ellie looked up, frowning. "Ir abelas, hahren. It won't happen again."

And it wouldn't. For a very long time.

\- * - * - * -

It had been Belathen's planning and Dorian's ability to mix a little something to soothe Cullen's sleep that resulted in Sera successfully pranking the Commander. He had woken one morning alone to find a small itch of his side, right at the waistline. On further inspection it turned out to be a surprise tattoo of the Inquisition and Tevinter symbols, the words 'Property of' in dark lettering above them. At least it was in a place he could keep covered, and seemed to amuse the other two to no end.

Bel and Dorian were talking at least, though every conversation seemed strained. Around others most couldn't tell- but Cullen hadn't spent a night alone all week, and few reported seeing them together during the day. Cullen would have hoped that pranking him would fix things, which is why he took it on good humor, but things hadn't improved. Bel even took Vivienne to the Hissing Wastes when she left...which sounded as though it was amusing, but not practical. Now that she was back, Cullen had used the ruse of a game to bring the two together. And, once the interruption was over, he left. Maybe they would actually talk this one out.

It was a long time staring at the chess board before Dorian broke the autumn silence. "I meant it when I apologized," he stated simply.

"Hmm."

"Is that all you have to say, snowdrop?"

"Hmm."

"Bel..."

"Are you still planning on returning to Tevinter when this is done?" Her clipped response was accompanied by a winning move in their game.

"Possibly." Dorian shook his head. "Is that what this is about?"

Bel didn't answer right away, clearing the board from the bed. "You should probably tell Cullen. He may not take it so well."

Dorian stalled. That much was very true. "He'll have you," Dorian pointed out, trying not to dwell.

"That's not the issue, nor... is that a certainty."

The two refused to look at each other, and that silence came over the room again as Bel finished putting the pieces away. Then, quite suddenly, she found Dorian was grabbing her wrist and pulling her towards him. The embrace was so tight she had to tap for a little air, and even then it eased only reluctantly. "I know," the mage whispered. "Believe me, my delicate little snowdrop, I know."

"Dorian." Belathen pulled herself away slightly, getting a good look. She had expected a bit of sadness at the thought, but not the fully crestfallen expression. "I... I had no idea..."

"I should have thought it was obvious. I just found more than I ever imagined possible; I couldn't stand to lose it now, Bela."

"You won't. No matter what." Taking a deep breath, she added, "If that does... I mean, if Corypheus... I won't let him win, but..." She sighed. "I know you and Cullen will be alright as long as you stay together. Can you promise me, Dorian? Whatever happens, will you..?"

"Don't make me honor that request."

"But you will."

"If I must." Then, after a full minute, he added, "Just keep in mind if you somehow manage to get yourself killed I do have the ability to bring you back and complain about it to your face."

"Duly noted."


	38. Revelations

Ellana was up late, ignoring the snores behind her while she read. The book she was reading was fascinating, discussing the most common practices of the dalish and suggesting the most likely origins. Solas had fallen asleep hours ago, and while Ellie was almost tempted to ask for a lesson in the Fade this held as much promise- if not more.

The first thing to come up with some difficulty in swallowing was the concept that there may have been slavery of a sort in Arlathan. After seeing what happened to Belathen after the temple of Mythal however, it was more likely that was true. Lavellan's Keeper also examined the system of the clan and it's very structure: each to their part, based on ability rather than interest in nearly every case. It suddenly stank of the leftovers of a slave system, and the very thought made her sick.

Only one book addressed the idea, and Ellana was determined to examine the author and see if it rang true.

~It is likely that in order to enforce their caste system and determine who served, a form of marking had to evolve as well. Most of society would have carried these symbols in whatever form they took.~

That was ridiculous, then. There was no such mark...

Then, unbidden, her hand raised to scratch her cheek and a thought came again. A marking... something most, if not all, would have had. The remains of a civil war in Arlathan, something the winners would have carried with them. She imagined it now, and it clicked quite suddenly. The symbol of captivity was literally at her fingertips, spread across her face for all to see. This time there was no 'almost.' She rushed from the room and made it to just at the edge of the walkway, leaning over as she got ill with her sudden realization. She crouched to the ground, suddenly too dizzy to stand.

"Lethallan?" The voice was solid, concerned as he showed from time to time. Ellana looked up, struck by Solas' unmarked face and the aire of superiority- and command- around him. "Ellana, what..?"

"Is it true?" Ellie asked.

Solas looked at her, confused. "Is what true, Keeper?"

"I was reading," she gestured to the table. "You say you have seen Elvhenan in dreams..."

The older elf turned to the table and saw the volume which had hastily shut. He remembered the questions she had been researching on slavery- he'd encouraged her to seek her own answers- but he hadn't expected her to put it together. He bent low, pulling her off the cold stonework, and guided her back inside. "I hadn't planned on you discovering this much," he admitted."

Ellana deflated to where his hold was the only thing holding her up. "Then our valleslin, they are..."

"Proof the People were once captives by their own hands."

Ellie smothered the next whimper. "Never again," she whispered. "Lavellan will dismiss the practice, and I will present this research at the next Arlathvhen. We will not hold this up as who we are."

Solas paused, keeping a hand steady on her back. "You truly desire this?"

"We will not be slaves, lethallin." Her voice was steady, certain, as he sat her down.

"I know a spell..." Solas offered, hesitant. "If you wish, I can remove them."

Ellana blinked, startled. "Magic can do that?"

"It can."

It was a long moment before she nodded her consent, tears filling her eyes. "If you will, hahren, I would... be free."

*And because I don't want to ignore the main focus...*  
Belathen knew Cullen was a devout Andrastian. She never would hold it against him, couldn't find it in herself to question it too fully. It was part of what she loved about him in fact- that little cocoon of faith he wrapped around himself when the world was falling apart. Since she knew him so well, finding him at the feet of Andraste's statue in prayer at the end of her lengthy walk and discussion with Dorian was no surprise.

Bel let him finish the words, knowing he drew strength from the Chant. A plea, she heard. A want for guidance, for the world to be set to rights. To her ears it sounded as though he was halting, trying desperately not to waver.

Belathen was terrible at this. Oddly enough, Dorian was better suited to being the comforter between the three of them, and now that their argument had been... discussed and resolved out of necessity... he really ought to be here. Only he wasn't. It was just her, the Dalish hunter forced into a position of power she was never meant to hold, and the first man she loved- one of two she held close to her heart.

So Bel choked back her uncertainty and approached.

"A prayer for you?" she asked, coming up behind Cullen with a purpose in each step.

"For those we have lost," he clarified. "And... those I am afraid to lose."

Bel couldn't help the surprise in her voice. "You're afraid?"

"Of course I am! Corypheus possessed that Grey Warden at Mythal. What more is he capable of? It is only a matter of time before he retaliates; we must draw strength where we can." Then his eyes locked to hers, forcing Bel to still in her steps. "When the time comes, you will be thrown into his path again. Andraste preserve me, I must send you to him."

Bel reached to her neck, where a single coin turned to a medallion set on a chain and dangled close to her heart under her tunic. "There's nothing to worry about," she tried to assure. "I have luck on my side, remember?"

Cullen's laugh came out in such a way that the elf knew that the only reason it escaped was exasperation and the inability to choke the natural response down. It was followed by a simple acknowledgment of, "That's... less comforting than I'd hoped." Then, almost immediately, Cullen pulled her into a crushing hug. Belathen could almost feel the warmth of tears that refused to escape as he whispered an added, "Whatever happens, you WILL come back."

Belathen felt her heart aching. She wanted so desperately to agree, to tell him everything would be alright, but she knew better. She wouldn't promise anything that was so uncertain. "Cullen," she answered finally, careful with her words, "you don't have to..."

"Allow me this." It was a plea, and Bel knew she couldn't deny him. "To believe anything else would..." The words stopped briefly, his head shaking slightly before he finished, "I can't."

Belathen relented. She stood still, holding him close in silence for several minutes before finally relenting. "Cullen, ma'enasalin," she suggested, "you are right. When the time comes, I will be in Corypheus' path. No, don't. I need to tell you... I won't be alone, and neither will you."

"I don't understand."

"If I have a choice, I'm taking Solas. Not Dorian."

Cullen paled. "Bela, if this is about the Temple..."

"We've come to an understanding on that," Bel assured. "This isn't about Mythal. It's just that... if... if I... if Corypheus changes the future," Bel settled for, keeping her wording cautious for the moment, "I would rather know you had support. Love."

"What about you?"

"I know you don't trust Solas, but he has proven more than just a random apostate. Or even a hahren... sorry, teacher." Taking a deep breath, Belatjen admitted, "I may not know the man who is responsible for my birth, but Solas is more my 'ada' than that man ever would have been."

Cullen looked as though he might protest, but his mouth closed before it even fully opened. "If that is your wish, Inquisitor."

"Dorian disagrees vehemently," Bel noted. "I see you do as well. But especially with the voices from the Well... Mythal says he is trustworthy as well."

"Who am I to go question the judgement of both a Herald and a Goddess then?"

Belathen smiled widely, realizing she didn't want to let go either. Instead she pulled Cullen in even closer, breathing in his scent.

"Tomorrow," she whispered. "We start talking about looking in earnest tomorrow. Tonight... I need both of you."

Cullen's eyes widened. "Both of us? Are you certain?"

"Cullen, I desperately love two men. I know they love each other in turn. It feels... right."


	39. Eir'las

"Going somewhere, snowdrop?"

Belathen took a deep breath and turned at the rich teasing in Dorian's voice. She couldn't help but smile at him, leaning on the door up to her quarters. She tried to give him an innocent bat of the eyes but dramatically failed.

"You didn't think one brief chat would be enough, did you?"

She could keep up the coyness. It was a fun game anyway. "Did you need me for something?"

"I do. Come with me." It was the sudden change in Dorian's tone that finished her: pleading, admitting a need. She could give in. She WOULD give in.

The Tevinter practically had her up against the walls as the went up the stairs, stolen kisses at every bend. And each one came with an unspoken message. I'm sorry. I love you. I didn't mean anything I said. Because even in their last conversation, Dorian hadn't been able to actually say it. Instead, he'd fumbled, latching onto the idea of returning home. Only now, with Corypheus defeated and the very real fear of losing each other over, could he express the rest again. 'There's no you in Tevinter,' he had said. 'That's all that matters.' And it seemed he meant to prove it in every step.

It wasn't until they reached Bel's room he let her step ahead, huffing out a pleased, "See? Much better." Belathen smiled taughtly, trying to suppress the amusement. She tried to talk but found his words took over. "Yes yes, I'm sure we have all the things to say. Two things in private before you run off: first, you are terribly dull and I hate you."

That almost got Bel's eyes to roll. She turned away, stepping out to the balcony and leaning over the edge, looking across to the tower. "And what's the second?"

There were so many things Dorian could have said, and many of them hurtful or playful. Instead he wrapped his arms around her, leaning on her shoulder, and did exactly the opposite. He was sentimental.

"I hope this never ends."

It was another hour before Cullen could extricate himself from the festivities. He opened the Inquisitor's door to find her in bed covered by nothing but a sheet, Dorian beside her similarly undressed. Bel had a finger idly twisting a lock of his hair, though both turned at Cullen's entrance.

"I thought," Cullen suggested, "I might claim of your attention after all."

"Is something on your mind?"

"Everything." The look was lecherous, wanting. He quickly shed most of his clothing and sat down to join the others in his breeches and tunic. "You know, the battle is over, there's going to be a new Divine... and I don't care about any of that. We made it." He lay down, reaching up to brush his hand against Bel's face and the delicate valleslin on her cheek. "All of us."

"Cullen." She grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly. Even as she did, Cullen felt Dorian reach for the other. Quite suddenly he was pulled down, one on each side nestling into his neck. The trio was settled comfortably in bed, looking out the window to the setting sun and listening to the waning sounds of the party below.

"I have no idea what happens next," Cullen sighed, almost happily.

Belathen chuckled as she turned, no longer on the side but now straddling her commander. "Neither do I."

"Nor I," Dorian added. "We'll just have to make it up as we go."

"I can live with that."

It was the next morning before Belathen came down from her room, stretching lazily and happily as she examined the fall-out from the previous evening with a pleased eye. It seemed all Skyhold had joined in celebrating, most to overindulgence. She smiled as she thought of the contented scene she had left in her own room, a sigh exiting her lips. Cullen and Dorian had seemed quite satisfied by her answer of slipping out, leaving them with each other and a cat demanding warmth.

There were several things to manage today, but first was a good cup of tea. She headed to the main table in the hall where she found one of the cook-staff had already set a warm kettle with a few choices for leaves beside it. Within minutes she had her cup, sighing happily and looking around to see if she was the lone sober individual in Skyhold.

She heard the clunk from the rotunda before she registered it was unlikely, her feet carrying her that way by habit. However it was not Solas but Ellana she found, clearing some of the books off the desk with a single swing.

"Wrong. Wrong. This is..." The blonde groaned and rubbed her eyes before looking up. "Bela?"

There was one thing that struck the Inquisitor immediately. "Ellie, your marks..."

"They weren't what we thought they were," Ellana excused. "I would have had Solas talk with you and make you the same offer he did me, but... well, that obviously is a moot point now."

"Ellie, I..."

"They're slave markings, Belathen! I can't... we've been declaring ourselves free by binding ourselves to masters without even realizing. Who knows what consequences this could have on the Creators!"

"Consequences? Ellie, you don't make sense."

"Have you ever wondered why Fen'harel imprisoned our gods, Bela? I didn't, but these... things..." Ellana pointed at the clutter of books, growling, "These volumes make me question EVERYTHING! Look at Sera even- she might prank to prank, but it's always someone who deserves it or needs a wake-up call." She then picked up one of the oldest. "This one even suggests Fen'harel was Andruil's lover. Her LOVER, lethallan! You don't just go locking up your love, do you?"

Belathen considered the implication further. "I suppose not."

"So what if by dedicating ourselves so wholly we've been feeding power to something that was better left powerless?"

"It's not like we can just... ask Fen'harel why he did it," Belathen pointed out.

Ellana laughed, truly chuckling. "Oh, I don't know. With your luck the damned Dread Wolf is part of the Inquisition and will simply walk up one day to introduce himself as willing to answer our questions."

Belathen had to laugh at the image that entered her head at that. "Well, I managed a pet dragon-goddess. I don't see why a wolf-God couldn't be next."

The two sat down together and had a laugh, just like old times. It felt comfortable. Natural. Friendly.

"By the way," Ellana noted, "do you realize there are five-dozen elves in the main Inquisition forces, almost half of which identify as dalish by birth or belief?"

Belathen struggled with that number. "It can't be that many."

"It is. Your Commander gave me the numbers. It makes the Inquisition the largest clan, unofficially, among the Elvhen." With a pause, Ellana suggested, "Arlathvhen is next year. I thought we might see about making it official."

Bel looked at her friend like the blonde had grown a second, screaming head.  
"Tell me this isn't serious."

Ellana drew out a journal, one of Varric's blanks given freely, and opened it. She pushed it to Bel excitedly, smiling. "Consider it a legacy for the People, as we should be. As we always should have been."

Belathen looked over the notes, jaw about to drop. "Ellie, this is..."

"I know. I talked it over with Josephine- I hope that was alright. If you like it, she suggested giving the remains of Haven for this project. Apparently the Inquisition was gifted the land."

Project. This was... "It's a town, lethallan."

"Hopefully a city, someday. In the mountains." She was grinning, wide. "Aravels and running were not what our ancestors fought for."

Bel looked at the notes again, a word catching her eye and making her blink. "What is that?"

"I... may have also talked with your men, briefly. The younger one- the foreigner- suggested the name, and Josephine said it was apt."

Eir'las. Snowfall.

Or Snowdrop.


	40. Do You Want to Build a Snowman?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... for the readers from Tanadahl, I promised this would attach the sequel. I'm guessing you have figured out where that sequel material may be going based on my changes and additions... hopefully you will enjoy!

When winter came, it did so with a vengeance. The air practically sparkled with frost and ice from the mountains, and Bel found she only slightly hated it. While the chill was uncomfortable, it also meant fewer travelers to Skyhold and more chance to simply be herself instead of the Inquisitor. Most of the time was spent hiding away near a fire with books, working to bring the fluent elvhen from subconscious to conscious thought. Ellana proved a help as she tried to learn as well, the duo working together until they were able to manage full- albeit brief- conversations without trade tongue interjected. It felt like a true victory.

Bela was curled up in her room by the fire with one of the lighter books when she heard the rapping at her door: two slow knocks, three quick ones, and a single light knock to complete it. Smiling, Bel unwrapped herself from her warm cocoon and went to open the door.

Ellie had done her blonde hair in twin braids that lay on her shoulders, the hair growing longer and wilder since autumn in her distractions. She was covered warmly as she gave a rather childish grin and asked, hopefully, "I'm trying something with frost magic. Please join me, Bel?"

"Ellie, it's snowing."

"I know!" Ellana looked so excited. "Remember as kids when it snowed and we had to move on? Keeper Deshanna never let us go enjoy it."

"I don't like snow, lethallan."

Ellana pouted. "I wanted to try building a snowman in the courtyard by the entrance. But I can't do it alone, and any time I try with Sera she ends up knocking it down. Nobody else will really try..."

Belathen sighed in defeat. Ellana was so busy working the rest of Lavellan had put her on a pedestal and left her alone, and most of the Inquisition was nervous around the elf. Ellie needed to come back to the ground in order for some of their more radical plans to have a prayer, and being seen building a snowman playfully was a good way to seem accessible for both of them.

"Give me ten to bundle up." Then, chuckling, she suggested, "Get Cullen. If I'm going to suffer, I should make someone else suffer as well."

Ellie ran off, smiling wide and bouncing as she dashed off. Bel pulled on her warmest clothing and, when satisfied, headed down. It was a slow crawl to the front door of the main hall, and more than a few barely-contained giggles from the hall as she made her way outside.

Ellana and Cullen were waiting at the door, and the trio ran down the steps together to enjoy a playful winter afternoon off. Ellana was trying frost magic to compliment her lightening, and right now found it simple enough to hone by trying to make delicate, intricate details on the snow person they made. The trio started with re careful application and decorating...

It was actually Cullen who made the first move. Ellana didn't see the tiny, soft missile coming but definitely felt the impact on her shoulder. When she spun, she saw the warrior had created a small circular trench in the snow and lobbed the snowball at her from there. Belathen was giggling from the edge of the staircase, where she had built up a small defensive wall and seemed to have a well-conceived pile of prepared ammunition beside her, explained me why she had been so quiet for a while.

"Oh you two," Ellana warned, "are so dead."

Within minutes it had devolved into a small three-way battle, the trio doing what they could to force themselves into the covered positions. Ellana quickly managed to smother Cullen out of the lower position, but in turn he was now going up against Bela's stockpile of snowballs. It was amusing to watch as, covered almost entirely by snow, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her away. Bel was screaming in excited, happy distress while he stole a kiss to a small, exposed part of her face.

"Knew I won," he noted.

"Because I obviously lost." Belathen let the comment stay filled with sarcasm as she grabbed another snowball. Cullen followed suit, and the two of them immediately lobbed their respective weapons...

Right at an unprepared Ellana, who had popped up to watch and enjoy the moment herself. She was suddenly covered in snow, and grumbled as she pulled a frost shield over the little entrenchment and ducked under.

"No fair using magic," Bel shouted.

"No fair using back-up either," Ellie complained back.

"Then might I help?" Dorian's presence took all three by surprise, and beyond that caused a small reaction of fear with Cullen and Belathen; after all, they knew his aim and that this was trouble.

As it was, Bel's prowess with range and Ellana's with frost and snow were the decided highlights of the battle that followed. While it didn't prove to be the humanizing element Ellana had intended, the fact that the remainder of the Inner Circle soon joined to either participate or watch the spectacle solidified Ellie's acceptance and place among them- giving her the same prestige as the Inquisitor's other advisors and friends. With that acceptance, everyone had a chance to know the elf and her prowess, and by the middle of the season Ellana officially became the arcane advisor to the Inquisition.


	41. Complications

When spring brought a request to check out the Frostback Basin for signs of the previous Inquisitor, Belathen had seen no problem in checking it out. She worked with Ellana on a new use for the Anchor, the Keeper having some insight from her notes and studies, and began to realize the possibility of creating a true barrier with it- and with the new usage, she found the wild Avaar easy enough opponents. In the end, her biggest problem turned out to be her own stamina.

It happened just after they met with Telana's spirit. Bel had started using the barriers she had worked on extensively, and something about the prolonged use did not agree with her. She started getting sick at odd intervals, to the point where she took to having nothing but ginger tea in the morning in a vain attempt to settle the issue. Unfortunately it was a truly vain effort- she still didn't seem to be able to keep anything down in the morning, and at other random intervals after using the damned thing. At least Telana and the resultant searches seemed to distract the others (including Dorian, thankfully) from noticing quite how bad it was.

The other issue was the ice and cold. Approaching Ameridan had almost killed Bel, not because of the enemies but her sensitivity to the intense cold. She hated the weakness, but was thankful for Cassandra's uncanny ability to take charge when needed- it had saved them many times over.

It was almost over now. Bel was back to her bow, not trusting herself with the daggers right now when she never knew when nausea would take over, and let the two warriors on her team take point. Hakkon was an actual challenge, as was to be expected if even Ameridan had trouble against him. With the full might of her best fighters the dragon seemed to tire quickly, but that didn't stop the damned icy breath from causing trouble. Bel found herself back to old tactics, rolling and ducking as she went to make sure he didn't hit her. The barrier from the Anchor flared to life, but the correlating wave of sickness didn't come. Instead it had gained in strength, and she could see the small sparks sputter through the dragon longs that tried to come up behind her.

It had been a long time since her own shield had been insufficient. When the anchor abated and the dragon was still standing, Bel felt the familiar settling of Dorian's barrier fall around her for the first time in months, though that was quickly followed up by the mage inserting himself in front of her.

The rest of that battle, anywhere Bel maneuvered Dorian was right there. As they finished off the dragon imbued with the old spirit, freeing Hakkon, Belathen turned to Dorian questioningly.

"You know the idea that correlation is not causation?" he asked simply.

"Yeah." Bel felt only confusion, and maybe a little discomfort.

"I don't think it's the Anchor that is making you sick. When I used the barrier..." He sighed. "Well, snowdrop, we need to talk. I may have found something of note." Only the playful tone calmed Bel, knowing if it was truly serious the tone would be much more concerned.

When she got sick on the way back to the Avaar Keep, Dorian managed to simply chuckle and pass her a small leather band to tie her hair back.

"It isn't funny, ma lath." Bel clicked her tongue, reaching for her water to rinse out the latest of the taste. "I need this to pass."

"It'll get worse before it gets better I'm afraid," he admitted. "Actually, if I'm right about the cause this could be highly amusing."

"I hate it when people are cryptic."

"My apologies. I don't want to say much until we can be sure..."

"Sure of what?"

"That this isn't due to messing with the Anchor," he reiterated, "but something else entirely."

"Such as?"

"When I dropped the barrier on you, I sensed... something else. Something... extra."

"Extra?" Then, in a rush, she understood his insinuation. "Tell me you're joking, Dorian."

"I'm afraid I'm exceedingly serious." When Bel turned away, looking pale again, he just sighed and chuckled again. "This could change things a bit. Now now, snowdrop. Don't be ill again."

Bel shook her head as she immediately violated that request. Then, slowly, she turned to announce, "I hate you."

"No you don't."

"You could be wrong."

"Unlikely." Then, laughing again at her suddenly pathetic excuse for a sneer, Dorian offered, "We will find out when we get back home."

Home. Home sounded... very good. It was one thing Ameridan had never seemed to find, for all his talk and considerations. Nowhere did it seem he had truly set down strong roots in spite of his love and work. Perhaps it had been denied him. Not so now. Bel knew home was nearby, and that wherever she found herself it would always be just around the corner.

When Dorian noted, "Cullen will pitch a fit you know," it only hit the thought home.


	42. Truth and...

As it turned out, Dorian's keen intellect was spot on in this case. Belathen went to talk with the head of the healers as soon as they returned and received a quick check up that wound up taking quite a chunk out of the day with one single phrase...

"Well congratulations Inquisitor. You're pregnant." The healer looked up with a concerned furrow of the eyebrows. "I... well, do you need help to know the father?" Her cheeks colored. Damn Andrastian modesty.

"It doesn't matter," Bel assured with a clipped certainty that ended the conversation. She sighed loudly, almost a grumble. "Look, I'm sure you're excellent at your job but do you have any specialists in childbearing?" Anything to get rid of this shrinking violet, really.

"I..." There was a stutter, then followed by a simple, "Of course. There is a new arrival on staff that might work to your needs. I will bring him in presently." The shy, uncertain woman disappeared. Thankfully.

Within minutes, Bel was greeted by a very different individual. His hair was dark throughout, but a light blonde coloring at the roots indicated he had been trying to change his look. He couldn't hide the sadness or fear in those brown eyes. Based on his severely thin frame, and how his clothes stuck to it, the Inquisition had provided his first real meals in a very long time.

"You haven't been with us long," Belathen noted, "have you?"

"I... no, Inquisitor."

"I understand you have some familiarity with pregnancy."

"I used to run a clinic of my own, once," he admitted warily. "I've helped many women give birth. Humans. Elves. And yes, even elf-blooded." Talking about it seemed to give him some pride, injecting something of ease into his stance as well.

"Great." Then, sheepishly, she asked, "What is your name then?"

"Umm... Adlan, Inquisitor."

Adlan. Something didn't quite sit right with that, like he was reaching for it. Then again, everyone had something to hide. "I see. Well, Adlan, thank you for your assistance. Why don't we start with the basics."

The man proved to be just as adept as he indicated, all uncertainty leaving as he checked the Inquisitor over from the beginning. She felt the slight touch of magic and oddly enough felt it ease her concerns.

"What would you say are the chances the child will be... magically attuned, shall we say?" Adlan asked easily.

"You know my situation..."

"I do. I promise, I have no quarrel, but there are side effects to consider if he or she is a mage."

That at least made sense, and Bel started the math in her head based on the man's earlier estimate of timing. "I'd say slightly better than average," she admitted. Then, feels my out the man, she asked, "You're a mage yourself, aren't you? Where did you study?"

He seemed to pale and catch himself before answering. "I'm an apostate, Inquisitor. Had been years before the war. Studying was here and there as I had a chance."

Something didn't fit. He was far too practiced. "Were you a runaway? I promise it doesn't matter, I'm just curious."

"Yes." He seemed to chuckle. "You could say that was my main area of study when I was in a Circle. I finally managed freedom on my tenth attempt."

Bel laughed with him. "I can't wait to see how everyone reacts when Leliana... I mean Divine Victoria announces the death of those horrid things," she admitted.

From that point forward, 'Adlan' was far more at ease, giving suggestions and helping Belathen predict what was coming next. It took time, but when he was done the elven Inquisitor was finally comfortable with the unforeseen change in this year's plans.

"Very well done, Inquisitor. I hope that proved useful for you."

"Very. In fact, as of now, I'm drafting you for the duration of this pregnancy, if that's alright."

The mage seemed to balk. "I appreciate the sentiment, your... Inquisitorialness. I think it would be a bad idea. Knowing your compatriots I would be wholly unwelcome."

"No need for that talk. I need your help, I need your help. Got it?"

"I..." With a surprised breath, the strange man nodded. "Of course."

Thinking back on the meeting, she added, "I will warn you now that I detest liars, however. Anything you have to say to me, you will say now, or I may hold you accountable."

'Adlan' sighed and gave a shake of his head. And then, slowly, he did as asked for the first time in two years. He told the truth about who he was. Surprisingly, Belathen simply thanked him for his honesty and resolved that him meeting Cullen would be a very bad idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I couldn't help it. Any guesses on the new arrival's identity?


	43. Family

The horse was less steady than her usual mount, but Belathen was advised that it would be better to find an animal able to respond to responses from side-saddle. It was awkward learning the new style, but Bel was not going to go far. She was even happy to head off to Haven with Ellana to look over the foundation for creating the new permanent settlement. The Dalish of the Inquisition, as well as many of the city elves, were already backing the idea- even if they weren't officially acknowledged at autumn's Arlathvhen the town was coming to life.

The first structures were not indicative of a small village, however. As Bel approached and saw the initial foundation, she felt her jaw come somewhat unhinged. Beside her, Ellana just sighed happily to see her plans coming to life.

"That's perfect," the blonde noted.

"THAT was your plan, Ellie?" Bel gestured to the buildings in some amazement.

Ellana looked over, amused. "You really weren't paying attention to the details, were you?"

"On governing, yes. But this..." Bel let her voice trail off as she looked over the structures. One was a sturdy wood building for the inn, three stories high and already with markings for several extensions. The other was the base and several layers of a stone structure in place of the old Chantry, and it was building up into something of magnificence even with just beginning. "I wasn't expecting this, especially so quickly."

"Empress Celene felt she owes a boon to the Dalish," Ellie explained. "Josephine was kind enough to help me capitalize on her goodwill. This place will be fully livable by winter. Even in the local conditions."

That truly was impressive. "You'll forgive me if I choose to stay away during that time."

"Your history with snow? I hear Antiva doesn't freeze; maybe you should winter there this season."

Bel chuckled, shaking her head. "Better to stay put this year in Skyhold. This, however..." Belathen gestured again. "I'm impressed."

"As am I." Ellie clicked her tongue, her mount heading up the road. "We should get going. Your... guests will be waiting."

Bel grimaced. "Don't remind me," she mumbled as she followed her friend.

Both Cullen and Dorian had practically begged to join her, but Bel had been adamant that this was something she needed to do with Ellana. Sera followed along, since she was curious to see 'what elfy-elves are like without the elfiness,' as was her right. But there was a very specific reason for Bel's insistence neither man join her. Waiting amidst the rebuilding of Haven were a few surprises she would rather keep close to her for the moment.

As soon as Belathen arrived and got a hand down from what must be the most patient horse in Thedas, the first of those surprises ran up and attacked her with a hug. Had she not been forewarned Bel may have even been disconcerted, considering the woman was not familiar to her, but the dark blonde mess of curls gave her away. Even as an older woman, her 'assailant' seemed youthfully exuberant and had a playfulness to her smile that boded well.

"Hello," Bel greeted as she moved to extricate herself. "Mia, I presume?"

"Yes, your worship!" The woman colored in embarrassment, shock at her own bad manners hitting her. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Please. Just... no titles. And don't be worried- I hate standing on ceremony."

Mia exhaled in relief. "Of course. Do you prefer Bel or..?"

"Bel is perfect," the elf assured. "I'm pleased to meet you. Sister."

"Sister." Mia smirked, knowingly. "I have to admit, as surprised as I was to be back in contact with my brother I was completely shocked to find out he had gotten into a relationship with the Inquisitor herself! It's like... I don't know, something on a list of impossibilities."

"Improbable maybe," Bela admitted, "but obviously not impossible."

"And this mage, Dorian. You could've pushed me over with a feather."

"Yes, well." Bel was happy to see mirth, not displeasure, from Cullen's sister. "I think it shocked pretty much everyone."

"But not you?"

Bel shrugged. "Maybe a bit," she admitted. "Let's get inside. We can catch a bit of lunch, and you can tell me all about Cullen as a boy. Did he do anything highly embarrassing? Please tell me yes!"

The afternoon wore on exactly as Bel had hoped, gaining dirty secrets on the warrior who first captured her heart. The blackmail material was much appreciated and made the meeting worthwhile. Ellana was busy checking on the workers the whole time, and by request Sera kept a watch out...

It wasn't until almost sunset that the other archer came and tapped on Bel's shoulder. "Got your trouble, Inky."

With that, Bel let a small frown pop on her face for a moment. "My apologies, sister, but I'm afraid I do have another visitor to attend to."

"We'll talk more soon," Mi assured. "We have weeks to catch up when we reach Skyhold."

"That we will."

Bel didn't head immediately into the common area. She went to her room and cleaned up, ensuring she looked her best... or at least highly presentable. Sera would take the role of intimidating, after all. Then, slowly, she made her way downstairs- nearing the bottom, she pulled herself up to full height and did what she could to appear confident.

"Inquisitor." It was the first time in a year she had heard that voice, but it was unmistakable. Her first instinct was to huff or run; instead, she turned to meet him head on.

He really didn't look intimidating anymore. "Magister Pavus. I got your letter, and I'm willing to talk. Briefly, at least."


	44. A Little Hypocritical

"I didn't think you were going to respond," Halward said quietly, a lilt of fear in his voice. "I know I didn't do anything to deserve the invitation you sent me."

"If this is supposed to make me listen, you're doing it all wrong."

"I heard rumors in Tevinter. They sounded... Well, based on the last discussion with my son I would say unlikely." He seemed to be assessing when he turned back, adding, "I've only heard confirmations as I got closer. It sounds hypocritical, but my main thought is for Dorian's happiness..."

Bel scoffed. "You will have to think of a more convincing lie than that, Magister."

"I..." He stalled, then sighed. "You have no reason to believe me. I realize that much. Last time I was in touch, I was a man hoping to hear his son's voice again, wanting to understand his choices. Hindsight being clear I can see why he spoke so highly of you. At the time I thought it was defending his decision to support your cause." The Tevene man sighed loudly, shrugging. "There was no reason to think it was because he'd already grown infatuated with you. There still isn't."

Bel nodded slowly. "It's a beautiful evening. Why don't we take a walk, ser?"

It took longer than anticipated to get past the rest of the settlement, Bel finding her feet remembered the way down the path. She was slightly surprised to find the way remained mostly unchanged- and Halward was following, almost demurely, until she stopped at the ruins of a small shack out of the way.

Bel sighed and leaned on one of the tree-trunks. The worst may be behind, but she could definitely tell long treks were next to go...

"You mentioned concern for your son," Bel noted, brushing off her discomfort. "I'll have you know that I am fairly conscientious in that regard."

"Does that include playing political games?" There was accusation in that tone, a surprising thing to hear considering the source. "It was my understanding Dorian had no intention of living a lie. I'm curious what would have happened to change that."

"You think..." Bel had to laugh. "If that is your concern, I suggest you return home now. I doubt you can handle reality."

"I have made mistakes, Inquisitor, but it was only ever to do what was right for my family. For... my son. It seems I never really knew what that was, but I'm willing to learn." He considered the woman in front of him, though gave no indication of his thought until he asked, "Is that a chance you can give me?"

Belathen was forgiving by nature. In the other hand, there were some things she couldn't abide, and this was one individual she would always have a natural aversion to. On the other hand, it also wasn't her say...

"A chance, Magister Pavus. Is a chance enough for you? I can't promise anything more."

He could only nod, and Bel found a strange delight in explaining the situation. Halward balked- of course he did- but also managed to remain silent during her simplified summary, to his credit. When she finished, the quiet continued for what had to be several minutes.

"And... that... works?" The question was extremely tentative, uncertain.

"I couldn't imagine my life without Cullen," Belathen admitted. "I think you would find Dorian feels the same. He chose the Commander long before he did me."

"Somehow I am not surprised." Halward sighed. "Leave it to my son to find a way to shatter tradition even when he does find a suitable partner."

Belathen bit back her immediate snarky remark, instead pulling herself up. Once, Dorian had said he hadn't seen the part in her that drew others to her cause, that little spark- not until Haven's demise. The two may be similar, but Bel hoped she had learned more since then. She desperately needed to be a worthwhile figure right now. So when she stared back at the asshole from Tevinter, she drew on everything she had learned and used in the past year as Inquisitor.

"This was your last chance to convince me," she noted.

"That wasn't a judgement," Halward quickly ensured. "Just... an observation. Dorian was never easy, even as a child." Then, carefully, he asked another question. "So Commander Cullen is... a good man?"

"One of the best," Bel assured.

"I... would like to meet him. Someday, perhaps I will. Both of you have a strong reputation of course, but I have been blinded by that sort of thing before." He pulled a small package from his pocket, a simple cloth wrapping over an object. "This should be returned to Dorian. I know I have further to go to gain your trust- I accept that- but this means something to him."

Belathen watched the magister turn away, starting back on the path as she slowly unwrapped the object... as soon as she recognized it, she did her best to run after him.

"Wait!"

There was a pause as he turned to respond. "Yes, Inquisitor?"

"You went to Val Royeaux of your own accord, didn't you?" When he discolored with the nod, she handed him the item back. "This will mean more coming from your hand."

He didn't cry, his discipline was that high. Bel knew it was the only thing that held the response back as he reached for her hand and squeezed it in a silent thank you pride wouldn't quite allow.


	45. Part of a Plan

Bel wiggled out from under the very thin blanket, a hand moving up to wipe the small bit of sweat from her forehead. She sighed, rolling to her side; when Cullen moved to try and put an arm around her waist, she grabbed his hand and pulled it away.

"I'm hot," she complained.

Cullen chuckled at that. "Who are you, and where is my Bela?"

"It isn't funny, ma enasalin."

Self-preservation kicked in, and Cullen fought to pull the grin from his face. There was a single phrase, a warning Ellana had passed on as soon as she heard what happened: 'Don't EVER laugh at a pregnant woman unless she's laughing too.' Bel was frowning instead. Even so, it was... amusing.

"I know it isn't funny," Cullen managed. Thankfully it was one lie he seemed able to cover quite well. Then, taking the look of her in, he asked, "I know the main Circle knows, but when were you planning on making the official announcement Josephine has been going on about? It won't be long before your condition is impossible to hide."

"I wanted you to be able to tell your sister first," Belathen admitted. "Dorian's father was an... unexpected addition to the plan. I'll let him decide what to do there."

Cullen had to admit that did surprise him as well. "He seems a different man from what both of you described."

"That's because he decided he likes you," Bel noted, shrugging. "I have no idea how that happened." Then, thoughtful, she added, "He has mellowed out since I met him last year, but then again I doubt he was at his best back then."

"He did threaten me if I did anything to hurt his son, or stood for you doing so." Cullen followed the comment up with a light kiss on her neck. "It was actually endearing."

Bel sighed, this time happily. "Things are working out for the best then. Even things that had no right too." She shifted again then, grabbing for the blanket. "I'm cold."

"Weren't you..." Cullen stopped himself, instead handing it over. "Never mind. There you go."

Belathen started dozing off, curling into Cullen's arm. "We'll ask Dorian how he wants to handle it tomorrow. After he's had a chance to process everything. Then Josephine can tell us what she plans to say, because I don't much care."

"Neither do I," Cullen admitted, squeezing her closer.

Only for a slight huff. "Didn't I say I was hot?"

One battle at a time.


	46. Why Not This One

Ellana had always known that Belathen was meant for more than what Lavellan could offer. She had never stated it, afraid of losing her best friend, but it colored everything she did with her. At fourteen Ellie had considered herself uninteresting, unimportant, just another magic user in reserve, while Bela was the first in their year to receive their valleslin. The difference had scared her, and made Ellana stupid as a girl. She had pushed everyone else away from them, made Bel pick her above all others. When free time came for them, Ellie inevitably filled it with anything she could. Fear drove her actions until the day she pushed Bela away at Keeper Deshanna's urging.

It may have been ill-conceived at the time, but it still turned out for the best. Ellana was finding it much more intuitive to return to being friends and sisters rather than lovers. Not to mention Dorian and Cullen seemed to be more than enough for the huntress.

Ellana wasn't unhappy. In fact, she was gleeful that Bela had found her place and was so well matched. When finding out the Inquisitor was definitely expecting, Ellie had been only happy for her friend. It didn't, however, mean that she didn't also kind of want to start a small fire somewhere.

This only got worse when the new Warden affiliate sent by Hawke came to the Inquisition, sending Blackwall to a base in Orlais and taking up residence, Ellana had been in the unfortunate position of being in earshot when the Warden mage Bethany Hawke met up with Bel's newly drafted healer in an evening engagement.

Bethany hadn't called him by name, only whispered, "It's actually you."

"It is."

"I thought you were dead."

"I should have been. Probably still should be..."

When the young Warden had stolen a kiss to shut his mouth, Ellana had decided to excuse herself to a different rooftop to brood for the evening. The full moon was or, working to keep her company.

Ellie was tired of being lonely. Certainly working on the plans for Eir'lasan kept her busy, and there was also something magical to research with Dagna or Bela, but it felt... hollow. It was only worse when she saw Bel these days (though she would never admit it to the woman). It was a reminder of what she so desperately wanted. Needed, even. Work and study were fickle mistresses.

Sera had made a few overtures, but the odd rogue wasn't what Ellie wanted. It was strange, considering how many ways the blonde archer reminded Ellie of Bel in the old days- but Sera had too many points where she was wound up in hatred, simply... well, disagreeable. It didn't feel right.

There had to be someone out there...

When Ellana put down her books and closed her eyes she dreamt often of wolves. The small ones nuzzled her in play, happy to see her, and the older would nod respectfully as she accepted the youthful invitations to relax and play. Once in a while she would sense the large black wolf she had felt that first night in Skyhold, though he no longer stalked her but seemed to protect this place. Ellie no longer feared wolves- she admired them. Sometimes she even thought of the dark stalker as a promise, though of what she didn't know.

Maybe, Ellana thought to herself as she enjoyed her dream, this is where She was meant to find happiness. Not in Skyhold, or Eir'lasan, or as a Keeper, but in another world. She just couldn't help her sigh as she woke, the small whimper that always came at the end.

Why not this one?


	47. All Knowledge is Worth Having

It was an exceedingly soft stuffed lamb, and Bel was very comfortable snuggled up with it just under her neck. It fit there just perfectly- not something purposeful in it's design, but it just happened to work that way. Today thankfully managed to be one of those rare days when she wasn't having to run all over Skyhold, though they were becoming somewhat more frequent. Or would have been, if Ellana hadn't asked for help creating two cohesive speeches- one for the general Arlathvhen and the other for the Hahren'al, since the gathering of Keepers and Elders was unlikely to accept the truth of their misinterpretations as easily.

It was Belathen who had suggested the idea of approaching individuals before the meeting with a letter of intention. The large populace may be unable to accept change after all, but individual Keepers and clans would have the intelligence and patience to consider the opportunity before them. So far the path had not led astray; of five messengers sent to the Dirth and other points in the Dales, only one had come back with a negative, the others split between agreeing with a permanent settlement and accepting it was time to talk. Ellana had the script, the careful letters, and actual command of the language. The letters, and the ensuing results, were hers. Bel just offered guidance and did her best to remind her friend that when the time came the mage would likely stand alone- capably, on her own merits.

In response, Ellana had taken over the study downstairs and highly suggested Bel join her when possible. The blonde even worked hard to make it one of the most comfortable places in Skyhold. Thus the commandeering of the small, overly fluffy lamb animal. Really, though, it wound up just being a quiet place. Ellie was well on her way to being a strong leader herself and rarely needed advice. Bel typically read, or the two would begin debates on books they had both finally finished to determine the meaning.

The one Belathen was reading now with the watchful eyes of her stuffed lamb over her shoulder could easily be debated. It read far too much like a fairytale for her liking, an old volume of stories collected and translated by an Avaar poet-skald from the elvhen tribes at the time...

~In that place he separated the good from the evil, the named from the nameless- those to be remembered from those to be forgotten. In doing so, Fen'harel cracked the bindings of the universe, his hubris judged. In fear of the very heavens falling, the wolf pulled his magic and used it to create a barrier between them, keeping ill and evil apart. In that place, the stronghold of the herald of rebellion, the sky was held back.~

In that place...

Bel sounded it out. "That is where the sky was held back," she whispered, trying in in elvhen. "Teralya..."

Ellana was nearby, her head peering up from the map on the small desk to look up.

"Terasyl'an te'las," Ellie corrected gently. "Where the sky did not fall."

"No." Belathen suddenly realized she had been writing the word over many times on the letters to other clans. "Skyhold."

That one word stalled Ellana's research, and even Belathen found herself sitting up. The lamb toy fell forgotten to the floor as the two women considered the implication. "Here?" Ellana asked, shocked.

"I think so," Bel admitted, shocked herself. "And... I believe Solas knew."

The lost member, the lost name, fell between them for several moments. Then, finally, Ellana broke the silence.

"I have been considering studying Fade-walking," Ellie whispered. "My natural inclination may run to the elemental but I have been reading up on the theories. To do more I would like permission."

Belathen stared. "You want to delve into the Fade?" Ellana just nodded in response. "Researching Skyhold?" Another nod. "What do you need from me?"


	48. Truth of the Fade

Ellana had always been a somewhat lucid dreamer, even when she wasn't attempting to manipulate the Fade. It gave her an edge the first time she consciously made an attempt to control not only her actions, but the substance of her dream. She quickly pulled from simple sleep into the more varied side of the Fade- where the past and present coexisted, and spirits wandered.

Dreams were different from memories. In dreams the spirits had the control, filtered through the thoughts if the dreamer, but in the raw Fade there was no ostensible control- it was wild. It took a week before Ellana was able to exert herself in that part of the Fade enough to explore it and understand the world Solas had seen there.

The spirit that favored her was one of Devotion, and the chosen form was that of a large white wolf. Speech was unnecessary; the instant Ellie thought something, Devotion knew and was able to respond. The spirit was kind, and somewhat confused, but willing to share.

It wasn't that the spirits recreated the past before Ellie's eyes. It was that, easier than speaking, her guide would give her the images from the minds of those present- colored by the emotion of the spirit itself. Thus she saw the history of Skyhold not herself, nor as a participant, but as though she must judge the loyalty of the actions.

That first night she saw the dedication of the Keep, a gift to a brother who had proven himself. Three men walked the halls before her, and Ellana was able to follow them.

"You have done well, young wolf," the eldest commented. "It is high time you had a place of power for yourself."

"If you insist." The younthful figure in the center stood taller than the others, his head high, and the slanting glimmers of sun fell across his face to obscure it. All Ellana could make out was the thick black hair, allowed to flow long but pulled back out of the eyes. "I am honored by this gift, brothers."

"It is the first time we agreed on something in a long time," the third figure noted. "Just the task of getting us to talk, much less come to an understanding, was worthy of praise. Be sure you keep up the good work little brother."

"I shall."

"I hereby gift you with this home then. Let this be your seat of power, and may it last forever! And hopefully it will always remind the world that it is better to stand together than apart." The oldest smirked smugly, looking to the third with an obvious challenge...

Which was met. "And I grant to you the boon of your namesake. I dub you Fen'harel, the Wolf of Change, and promise we will remember our oaths. If we should falter or fail, may the wolves themselves prove your pack and give you the strength to cast our pride to the wayside."

The figure in the center bowed his head in acknowledgement, an Ellie could feel as the Fade circled him. Something had empowered him that day... and she found herself wondering at it.

~Historical Inaccuracy: we say that only Fen'harel could walk among both the Creators and those now Lost... but it seems he was more than an intermediary. Mayhaps he was an arbitrator and judge, a catalyst for them to work together. If so, what changed them? What changed HIM, to make him the monster we fear?~

The second night, Devition gave way to Love, and Ellana saw a domestic sweetness that made her ache. The same man had pulled his hair back, and a woman hung on either arm. It made her heart ache, but also curios.

"Always," the taller of the women promised, kissing his cheek, dark burgundy braids swaying behind her head.

"Forever," whispered the other.

"We have that freedom now," Fen'harel noted, a hand going to the younger. "You are freed. What do you desire?"

"I..." The woman paused, looking up at him with fear. "I wish it would end, ma vhenanen. There is more pain among the slaves than you realize."

"Then tell us," he soothed. "Andi?"

The other woman nodded, moving to wrap her arms around the other's shoulders. "Ar lath ma, Gilly. We both love you. It will never be you- not again."

"I wasn't the only one in bondage."

"Then we will make it right, make it better," Fen'harel assured. When 'Gilly' started to cry in response, both of the others caught her in an embrace, assuring they would never let her go. The last words Ellana caught as the scene disappeared were, "I promise, Ghilan'nain."

She woke that morning with tears, even if she didn't quite understand why.

The third night it was a spirit of Remembrance that guided her into the past, and what Ellana picked up shook her to the core.

"I tried," Fen'harel said, holding Ghilan'nain close to him. "I'm still trying. I don't know what else to do."

The younger woman looked sorrowful. "It's alright, ma'Fen." Then, looking around them, she asked, "Isn't it enough? We've sacrificed everything else!"

"And still the sky threatens to burst." Frowning, Fen'harel sighed. "We drew on everyone's power. Even..." He paused, tears escaping.

"Even Andi," Ghilan'nain completed, crying herself. "It's still unstable. What about the barrier you were creating, Fen?"

He shook his head. "I stole power and it isn't enough. It will never be enough."

Gilly took a deep breath. "The focus. It could still work."

"But if I use it, it will..."

"Seal all the power behind the veil." She took his hand. "I know."

"I don't have the strength."

"Yes." With that, Ghilan'nain forced power to where she reached for him. "You do."

"Gilly, no! If you do this..."

"It's me or all of us," she reminded. "It's alright. I've seen the slaves freed, and I.... when Andruil became..." She was crying in full force now. "Nobody should have to see one of the loves of their life do what Andi did, Fen. She broke me when she let the darkness consume her."

"It was my fault," Fen'harel whispered. "It always was."

"She made her choice. Let me make mine."

With a simple nod, Fen'harel drew the power in until Ghilan'nain was unconscious in his arms. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, brushing tears away. "I will always remember," he told her. "This will not be in vain."

Laying her down, Fen'harel went to an orb on the nearby table and poured all he could into it. It flickered green, then pulsed brilliantly- awash with magic, pushing back in... something.

"What happened?" Ellana asked, still watching. "I don't understand!"

Remembrance didn't need to say a word. Knowledge filled as if she had been an empty vessel, and perhaps she truly was for as little as she had known before.

~The Creators and the Nameless broke their truce, and true to his promise Fen'harel held them accountable. It was too late. The essence of magic had poured over too strongly, driving them to madness. It would not be held back. So Fen'harel gathered the others to him, drawing their power to attempt to push back the sky- the raw magic that permeated through the People. One by one, he stole their power until they turned against him, warned those who served against him, driven to horrors by the wild magic. The shemlin, the quick-blooded, learned to distrust those who used magic. Finally, Fen'harel made one last attempt to hold the sky at bay. He created an orb, a focus, and poured the power in. All the magic of creators and nameless alike gathered, and with that he was able to create a barrier to hold the Fade back: the Veil.~

The truth was painful. Ellana suddenly understood why 'may you learn' was a curse; she hadn't needed this, hadn't wanted this...

"I never meant for you to learn all this."

Ellana whirled around. No longer was Remembrance there, but a strange overlapping image of two men. One was Fen'harel, and that specter seemed to overtake the other she knew but could not place. "It hits, but this knowledge belongs to all of us, not just you," Ellana pleaded. "We must learn from the past."

"Some things are better left to fade."

"I don't believe that. You don't believe that. You promised to remember..."

"That I would remember!" he hissed. "No one else."

"We have lost too much," Ellana pressured. "There are things we must reclaim."

"Are you sure you wish to?"

Not even a little. Yet as Ellana approached, she could clarify what she saw in her mind- what her heart had been telling her from the beginning.

"Yes. I am certain, Solas."

It was with a surprised blink the figure of Fen'harel resolved into Solas, looking at her in a mixture of awe and terror. "You realized?"

"I should have sooner," she admitted. "I should have noticed a lot of things sooner."

"Then you know why I left."

"And why you will return," Ellie finished. "Someday, at least. I will look forward to it."

"Until that day..." There was a brief hesitation before he stepped forward, pressing a kiss to her lips. "I will think on you as well. I have never forgotten our kiss."

Ellana smiled, then let the dream dissipate. On waking, she shrugged the last of the sleepiness away and moved to the kitchen for a cup of tea. The day would be long, and she was actually looking forward to facing it.


	49. Complications

Bela spent most of the summer night talking about the history of Skyhold with Ellana in the rotunda, reclaiming the spot and checking the paintings for clues. Ellana explained the truth that they were in Fen'harel's stronghold, and that the accusations of Elvhenan were overly harsh. Bel could accept that- a whisper in her head confirmed much, even if she didn't have the Temple guardian's words in her head noting how crimes were attributed that could not possibly be blamed on the Dread Wolf.

Mythal's servants were loud as she talked with Ellie. It wasn't until an hour had passed she realized they had been conversing in elvhen and the concept frightened her. It had come far too naturally. With that concern in her head, Bel excused herself and headed up the stairs to her room. The stairwell was dark and foreboding, so she lit a light to guide her way...

Only to realize, at the very top step, she didn't have any match or candle, yet her path had been perfectly illuminated. She looked to where the anchor typically sat dormant and gasped, seeing the flicker of orange firelight die instantaneously.

"No no no," she whispered, pounding her hands uselessly against the door. Almost immediately, Dorian opened the door and, with no small bit of relief at her arrival, pulled her inside.

"What's the matter, sa'sha?" he asked gently, seeing her expression.

There were some very keen differences in Bel's two relationships. With Cullen everything was simply understood- they rarely needed to speak, simple presence serving to answer their questions. They simply understood each other innately, and didn't need to express it. That was why Bel wasn't terribly concerned about what would happen if Cullen found out about the healer she had adopted for the moment- he understood better than anyone that some things needed to happen, and would accept her decision... even if he didn't like it. Better to act first in this case. Besides, he already knew she was withholding information on the man and hadn't pressed...

At any rate, Bel had accepted from the start that Dorian was different. There was no hiding, because he picked up on the strangest things and instead of letting it be he had a way of drawing a conversation from it. It also meant that, unlike with Cullen, they tended to have issues from not talking- as opposed to talking too much and winding up arguing. Which at this moment meant Bel had to a quick assessment: was ignoring this until morning worth the disagreement?

Absolutely not.

"Interesting side-effect," Bel swallowed, raising her hand and focusing just slightly. As in the hallway, instead of the anchor flaring like it had many times before it spun a small red-gold flame. "I have no idea what this is about."

Dorian just blinked, watching as she smothered the flicker of fire with a snap of her fingers. "Well," he finally managed, "that is definitely interesting. Hardly the strangest thing that's ever happened to you," he finished by pointing out.

The observation calmed her nerves somewhat. "True."

The scholar immediately took over. Dorian guided her to sit on the edge of the bed, holding her hand to look better. "It seems normal. Well, as normal as enchanted marks that open and close rifts in the Fade can be," he assured. "We can't ignore the possibility that you just happen to be an extremely late-blooming mage."

"Is that what YOU think?"

"Maker no, but that doesn't discount the possibility." Dorian pressed the hand to his lips with a soft kiss. "Here's what we do know. Mages have been being born and having children for ages with very few complications. As an elf, from what you've said, magic is your heritage. The past... what? Year and a half shall we say?... has consisted almost entirely of you challenging every we know about the Fade. This is probably just one more thing." After a moment he shrugged again. "Or you'll end up a walking explosive. Either way I'm sure we'll manage."

"You always know just what to say," Belathen noted dryly, pulling away and rubbing her hands together. "Seriously though..."

"In all seriousness. You have a healthy dose of luck. You've beaten two gods already. I'd say this is just another adventure." With that, he pulled her down to the bed with a playful nudge, one she exaggerated as she fell down beside him. Then, with a very solid bit of seriousness, he added, "Not that we won't be seeing that dashing healer of yours in the morning."

"Dashing?"

"I have two eyes, Bela, and I refuse to lie. He is dashing."

Anders. Dashing. She started laughing, albeit lightly. "I wouldn't say that too loudly, ma lath. Might give poor Cullen a complex."

Dorian, who was in on the truth, joined in the chuckle. "You're absolutely right. My lips are sealed."

The shared laughter made a delightful way to let nervousness disappear into the atmosphere, where it sat forgotten until the sun rose. And if Bel was the first one up for once, who could blame her?


	50. Where There's Smoke...

Josephine had, at the beginning of summer, moved her receiving office to the rotunda, where she could welcome guests immediately. Ellana and Bel would- as they had the previous night- reclaim it sporadically when there were few guests, but it was above all a delightful place that the advisor could use as a grand display of the Inquisition's sway. It served Josephine well, and meant she had a chance from time to time for enjoying an evening with the two elven women as well.

With Josie evacuating the office by the former war room-now renamed the situation room since, in Bel's words, the war was over and they now just handled situations- it had been a great time for Cullen to move his own offices. The upstairs balcony served just as well when he needed the night air, and it was a comfort to be nearer to where he typically wound up ending his evenings. Which would have left the tower abandoned, if Bethany's placement as permanent Warden Advisor hadn't meant she needed her own office and quarters.

It happened to be that door Belathen knocked on when the sun was at a respectable angle. She heard the very familiar crash of a body tumbling down the ladder from the upper loft- oh how that sound brought back memories!

"Just a minute." Unless the Warden had suddenly come under magical attack herself, that was not her voice. It was far too deep to belong to a woman.

When the door opened a moment later to reveal Bethany Hawke, Bel averted her eyes. "The- uh- top lacing, Warden," Bela suggested, gesturing to the area. Bethany blanched as she looked down to see she had exposed her breasts, squeaking in modesty as she hurried to rectify the situation.

"I am so sorry, Inquisitor!"

"Nothing I haven't seen before," the elf pointed out. "I was actually looking for your... err... guest."

As Bel made the request, she caught Anders pop up from behind the desk. "Is something the matter?"

"I just wanted to see you so much I couldn't help it," she noted with the drip of highest sarcasm. "But since I'm here..." She flicked her fingers, the flame coming on.

"Andraste's left cheekbone!" Quite suddenly he was over the desk and looking at the fire. "And you have full control of it?" When Belathen nodded a positive, he grabbed her hand roughly.

"If I was interested in being a test subject I could have just asked Dagna," Bel joked. The mirth fell from her face when he looked up as though considering the idea. "Please don't make me deal with the hyperactive dwarf."

"Anders." Bethany spoke with a gentle warning, and a bright smile. "Have mercy on the poor Inquisitor, love. You don't even work well with Dagna."

"I know." He ran a hand through his hair, pulling the growing length (now mostly blonde again) in a ponytail before he looked back at Bethany with apologetic puppy eyes. The other, younger Warden mage just waved him off gently. "Let's walk."

The two wound up in a very secluded spot not far from the revised, free Tower of Magi. Once there, he looked at his patient with a strange sigh.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"I need to talk to Justice," he whispered.

"Is that all?" Bel's eyes narrowed, questioning as well as relieved.

"For the moment."

Not many knew that it was possible for a spirit to choose binding himself to an individual; even fewer knew what it took to reverse the process. In Anders' case it had been more simplistic since Justice had felt his purpose was fully served after Kirkwall's eruption. The hardest part had been, as Anders said, learning to live with what had happened and rediscovering who he was on his own over the course of a year. The separation didn't mean they two weren't friendly; on the contrary, as completely individual entities, they managed to be something even more. Justice was able to seek out the truth in the Fade, while Anders managed the physical based on the spirit's perceptions. It seemed to work well- but some (alright most) were disconcerted by the arrangement.

To Belathen, the results were what mattered. "Well then. Have your chat."

It would look for all the world like Bel was sitting there with someone who had decided to take a short nap. Bel knew the truth was extremely complex and waited patiently, glad she had slipped out on her own. Cullen would be disturbed if he had any indication of what was going on, and Dorian would have been antsy...

It was almost ten minutes before Anders opened his eyes with a smile. "I have good news, and better news. Then some... awkward news. What do you want first?"

"Let's go in order."

"You're fine, as is the baby. It isn't common, but it seems that that scar... the Anchor... is acting as something of a conduit. Since she is developing talents of her own, it basically is functioning as a window of sorts." He shrugged. "Even better, Justice didn't see any problem with it except that she has an opposing nature to your own. It will probably wreck havoc on your system."

"Already noted," Bel admitted. Then, breathless, she asked. "She? So it's a girl?"

"And one day, a mage."

Bel had to smile at that. She was going to have a daughter- and that girl would be a magic user, apparently rather strongly attuned to the primal elements. A little girl. Who would she take after, Bel wondered? Was she going to be a handful, or sweet? The matter seemed far more real than it had the night before...

"And the awkward?"

"She's likely to manifest her talents ridiculously early. The Anchor is teaching her how to reach into the Fade even now- I suggest you be ready."

The very idea elicited a groan. Jut what she needed- a toddler with fireballs. "This is all happening rather quickly," Bel admitted.

"I understand."

"I..." She settled back a bit, rubbing her forehead. "Creators I'm in over my head."

"Not really. Not to mention you will have help." Anders chuckled at that. "Normally when I say that it comes out hollow, you know. In your case however it is exceedingly true."

Bel couldn't help but laugh as she admitted the mage was right. Then a horrifying thought hit her. What if it was too fast for Cullen? Or Dorian? Things had just been settling down before their little complication, and while they both were nothing but supportive...

"Fenedhis lasa!" With that, she was near instantly moving, only a small whirl of "Thank you" following her.

Both Cullen and Dorian knew her hiding spots, but she didn't want to stay hidden necessarily. It was more of a tactical retreat to get herself under control. Because it dawned on her that while she'd known what Cullen wanted and trusted his intentions before all this, they'd never really discussed what had changed... not to mention the complications ahead...

"Bela!"

"There you are, snowdrop!"

Speaking of...

Belathen turned and was gratefully pulled into a strong set of arms. Both seemed surprised by how quickly she melted in, even as she refused to let herself doubt right now. The more she thought it was crazy, the stronger the possibility seemed, until she had to ask.

"Are you both... happy?"

"Where is this coming from?" Cullen asked, apparently flabbergasted by the idea.

"I... I'm not sure," Bel admitted. "I'm probably just being silly, but it occurred to me that we never really discussed where this was going before- well, you know."

"Before myself or the Commander managed to get you knocked up, to use the colloquialism?" Dorian asked, amusement thick in his voice.

Bel laughed. Cullen was shocked, and Dorian found it amusing; maybe it wasn't so bad. "Your words," she bandied back, "not mine." Cullen colored a bit, turning away to smile. Dorian was more flagrantly laughing with her. At her. About her. Whatever.

"Nothing changed for me," Cullen admitted. "I told you I'm not moving on from you. That means either of you."

A strong sense of relief flooded through her. That was... comforting.

"And I'd be a fool to run away from this," Dorian added. "I told you once that I found more than I'd imagined having in my life. I'm not about to ruin that."

Belathen sighed in relief. "So I'm the idiot," she admitted. "That's good."

Cullen squeezed tight as he dared, noting, "It was pretty silly." Then, with a surprising calm considering, he added, "It sounded like something happened last night. Fire?"

"Oh... umm... About that..."


	51. Agreeable?

Ellana took the page with a shaking hand, certain she was feeling her heartbeat in her throat. The seal had been broken, and her eyes turned over the letter for a third time since she had received it. The first had resulted in her shock, the second in wild disbelief; now both were replaced by a sigh of relief.

Arlathvhen was changed. Not the timing- just the venue.

'Once we held Halamshiral and spoke our words there. Once again Elvhenan has been given a chance to stand tall, a land to call our own. It is our duty to see and support this endeavor with the whole of our being. Therefore we declare Arlathvhen will occur in Eir'lasan, in the Frostback mountains...'

Ellana couldn't quite get past that part. She was too excited, too surprised, and her mind began reeling with the implication of the change. And how much she was going to have to oversee to make sure the beginning of the town was prepared...

"Fenedhis, there's so much to do."

Ellie leaned over the table, running over the plans to reprioritize. The square definitely, and maybe the next extension on the boarding house to see if they couldn't avoid campgrounds near the meeting. If it felt and functioned as a real town, it would make the settlement more appealing and...

And...

Ellana heard it before she saw it. Buzzing, like dozens of little bees all around the room. When she turned abruptly there was a small honeycomb on her dresser quite suddenly, causing her to shove back to the wall until she racked out with magic only to realize the bee sounds were coming from a small, enclosed flask on the dresser.

A bee bomb?

Ellana scrambled down from the loft section of the upper room in the lodging at Eir'lasan, where she was spending her time now as construction went underway in larger sections. She took the stairs two at a time down into the tavern and the picture window overlooking the courtyard. It had been specifically designed as a small, comfortable room for one specific individual...

"Shit, Sera!"

"Problem, Elfy?"

"Problem? There's a jug of bees in my coverlet!"

Sera shrugged. "Might be the construction."

"And honey on the nightstand," Ellie continued, accusatory. "It is very much one of your... your... tricks!"

Sera shook her head, but the tug of a grin gave her away. It was horrible, and annoying... and endearing. For her annoyances and faults, Sera was trying and usually succeeding in being a good friend. That much was only highlighted by the blonde elf shrugging and finally saying, "Weren't me, but if it were I'd say it oughta remind you that you've got someone paying attention. After all, bees are funny, but honey's a gift, yeh?"

Ellana bought on that, her mind turning to honey-cakes and cream, or the light bit meant to pull the bitterness out of a harsh tea leaf. And the little comb of it was perfect, probably just barely sweet...

"I suppose so. I'll have to thank my benefactor should I ever find him." Ellie put all her energy into not smirking as she counted in her head, getting to four before Sera erupted.

"Him? You think a MAN would be so thoughtful? Probably a woman, I'd say."

Ellana smiled softly and turned to her friend. "Is that what you'd say, Ser-Bear?"

"I... just... Argh! It was me, alright? You caught me out. Just never. use that. damned. nickname. again."

"You don't say?" Then, just because she couldn't help it, Ellana added "Ser-bear."

"Next time the bees are free," Sera warned flippantly. It was no threat, but a bit of a promise. "Look, I know you're lonely-like. I get that, understand that. I like you. Might not be your type, but I'd still like to be there for you. Shit, it's why I'm here, innit?"

Ellana noises her thanks. "I do appreciate that, Sera. I admit, it's been nice to have a friend lately."

"Yeah. Right-like. Friendly." Sera frowned a little, but her eyes still smiled easily. "I'm still a little surprised. You don't mind an elf-type here saying prayers to Andraste instead of your big elfy gods?"

Ellana chuckled. "No Sera. The lady of light is as welcome as any. They're guides, nothing more; those Dalish who disagree are lying to themselves about what they really believe." Then, quieter, she added, "If we're claiming the so-called Herald of Andraste it would be hypocritical to discourage believers."

Sera scoffed. "Herald of Andraste my left ass-cheek. She's smooth though, I'll give her that. Bagged herself the two men in Skyhold who were supposed to be hard-to-get. What're the odds, yeah?"

"Yeah. Sure, Sera."

"Never mind that then. You're far more interesting. Elfy-elf without the... elfy bits. Now that's interesting, little honey tongue."

"Honey tongue?"

"You like honey, yeah? And what does honey do? Gets all over your tongue until you can't talk. So. Honey tongue. Get used to it."

"I... It sounds..."

"Naughty? Doesn't it? It's hilarious."

It was vulgar. Unfortunately the more she protested the more likely Sera would stick to the absurd nickname, and there were worse things to be called anyhow. "Right then. Hilarious." Ellana was surprised to find she didn't even have to force a smile- it just came naturally.

"I had a few questions actually. I mean, it's poppycock and children's tales but I thought maybe they'd be good stories. Like elfydom without the elfy-ness, maybe stories without the religion shite would be kinda neat."

"Are you... asking for a Dalish tale?"

"I dunno. Maybe. Sort of." Then, sighing, Sera admitted, "Yeah, sure."

Ellana couldn't help but be shocked. Now she'd seen everything. "Alright. I know just where to start, then. It's your arrows- they make me think of Andi... Sorry. Andruil. The huntress..."


	52. Halla are Magic! (no, not really)

It was a simple thing to keep the magic at bay for Belathen. She'd gotten used to the Anchor messing with her system well enough; one more added conundrum was nothing. Not to mention her natural resolve and will-power: it was hard to be thrown off when you spent much of your life with the patience of a hunter trailing one quarry, sometimes for days at a time. Even if she hadn't been a mage herself, she HAD been tested consistently- probably a holdover from when the People all had magic in them. It was proving useful, not only to keep her from using the temporary talent but more so as a way to keep herself in check as the months progressed and she felt less and less comfortable in her body. Some traditions it seemed were worthwhile keeping.

"Inquisitor. Correspondence for you. Ferelden."

The messenger interrupted Bel's thoughts where she sat in the edge of the centerpiece of the map room, looking at the current and past missions still notated. It was a brilliant thing, really; she had a vague desire that she was out helping... until she felt the baby kick, as though making her own wishes known.

"Yes da'len, we know very well you have your own schedule," the elf muttered just under her breath before looking up at the scout. "Not another dispatch from Queen Anora, I trust?" she asked flippantly, unable to help some irritation at being disturbed.

"No, Inquisitor. It's from one of the farming towns near Lothering, actually..."

With that, Bel moved with a sudden grace she really shouldn't be displaying for the moment. She snatched the small package and waved her hand to show the scout he was dismissed before examining the item. It was obviously put together by a child, but marked and pen with great care by a loving mother with neat but not ostentatious handwriting. Bel carefully opened the pack for two items to fall out into her hands. One brought a small smile, but she ignored it for a moment to pay attention to the letter in her other.

~Sister-

I can call you sister, can I not? That isn't too forward now, is it? Ah well. I will still do so, so et used to it.

Anyway, I was so take. Off-guard when Cullen told me you were with child I had nothing to offer as congratulations. After our discussion I thought you would appreciate the enclosed. Maybe your own child will have as much love for the toy as Cullen once did (ha!). I had this made exact, so feel free to rib him a bit by the way.

Would it be alright if I came up in spring after the planting? I dearly wish to see my brother again, and the family you are creating. Introduce myself to the little one and the like. Let me know.

Love Always, Mia~

Bel chuckled at the letter. She would coordinate with Cullen later, since he doubtless received correspondence of his own from his sister, and they would work on a single response.

Then Belathen turned her attention to the other item. It was a smallish, soft plush version of a yellow-gold halla made out of a single cloth; the details were even done in stitches in to prevent any grabbing or tearing off from small, busy hands. It was adorable, and well-conceived.

According to Mia, Cullen had had a toy just like this as a child that he refused to leave behind at any time, until he was twelve. He'd taken a lot of teasing for the toy, which would be common regardless but was only compounded by the fact it was so very obviously an elven toy. Looking at it now, she could see a young version of the blonde commander fighting to keep hold of the small halla, refusing to let it go. It had proven almost foreshadowing really. Bel chuckled at the image in her mind, wondering briefly if one day she might see that expression herself on their children...

Brushing that aside for the farther future, Bel played with the halla a secret bs. She set it on the map in the Free Marches, her nose scrunching. The People didn't belong there. She moved it to the Dales, a small smile as she considered the location. Closer. She pushed it over a bit, until it all but covered the Emerald Graves.

Now there was an idea.

~First Eir'lasan. concentrate on one project at a time. But it might be worth asking Celene about this... or Briala. The Frostbacks, Halamshiral, the Graves... small portions of what we once were. And could be again.~

Belathen picked the stuffed halla up from the map, smirking with a whistle as she exited the Situation Room. At the very least politicking wouldn't be boring. Nor would teasing her Enasalin- not that it was a halla, but that he'd had a stuffed toy that long and she had proof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to let you know my updates may be slow for a while as some personal and professional needs for attention have popped up. I'm not abandoning, and do have a real end game which is now in sight!
> 
> Thank you all for patience!


	53. Arlathvhen

The first thing that struck him was that someone had taken the time to pull Ellana's pale blonde hair into a very thick braid that ran down her back, and even set dozens of flowers into it- each magically preserved, each in perfect bloom. It was accented by a very gentle sheen like fresh rain that he recognized from ancient days but could never unravel the mystery of. Everything had been perfectly choreographed and presented- Ellana was even dressed in a revised version of the ancient style, using longer sleeves called for by the cooler weather while still keeping it off her shoulders. Instead of the cream colors and cold she had gone with blue and silver, which had a strangely perfect outline and brought the white flowers out in spite of them being just barely lighter than her hair.

It made it agonizing to try and blend into the back of the crowd as he was. He was, however, pleasantly surprised to see how many elves were there without blood markings on their face.

It appeared that the Hahrenal the previous day had gone well, because the leaders were definitely in accordance where they stood open marble square. Ellana and the Empress' partner Briala were at the center, the red haired elf in typical Orlesian finery but with her mask removed to show and prove that she too had a face free of markings.

This was shaping up to be a very interesting Arlathvhen indeed.

The only thing that bothered the elf once known as Solas was one distinct omission: Belathen Lavellan was not present. She was like a daughter to him, and he couldn't help but worry even if he had no right to do so. Instead he worked to busy his mind and try to ignore the concern her absence caused.

"Elvhenan. Elvhenas. Andaran atishan." Briala was the one to give the introduction but it was not her who held the crowd. Ellana seemed uniquely aware of the draw she was having, and made a whistle that brought the entire congregation around in a spin.

"Listen brothers and sisters," Ellana took over. "We have much to discuss, and a short time to do so."

Solas was amazed at the change in her. Where she had been an uncertain girl when he had left, reeling with the revelations and knowledge given, she was now exceedingly confident and poised. His respect only grew as the next hour progressed and she led the People through the truths their elders had already spoken.

Ellana declared them a People bound by the chains of the past, the darkness of her expression deep in this place. Her words did not fall hollow thanks to the Keepers that stood with her and Briala.  
Much of the past was laid bare, and amazingly it was not rejected but celebrated. Then the truly unexpected came.

"We have a chance," Briala announced, "to break the chains put upon us- by taskmasters, by mistakes, by everyone. And we will find a harmony. Together." The elven woman straightened. "In Orlais, the Marquedom of Halamshiral has been given to Elvhen rule. There is harshness there, hardness there, but in addition there is hope. There is thanks, for all we have been able to accomplish. We start with elevating the slums, where many of our brothers and sisters reside, but all the land is mine. We have leave to make towns, build moderate homes- to live life among the humans as EQUALS.

"Orlais also wished it to be known that steps are already being taken to ensure the next ruler of Orlais has the Elvhen at heart, by..." Briala's voice faltered a moment as her face brightened and beamed in a smile she could not hide unmasked. "...by having an elf-blooded in line to take the throne."

A cheer resounded, an expression of hope and joy all at once. Ellana relaxed and grinned herself. "And here, on the ground you stand upon, we are building not a town but a city. Slowly, yes, but by stone by stone we are creating a home of our own. This is the start of el'vhanas- Eir'lasan." She gestured around them, attention moving from her to their surroundings. "This can be a place of bounty, and it will be open to all who desire. We will have no life tree, for the city itself will prove our life. We will have no aravels, but sturdy homes. Once again we can use our magics to grow and herd, to make the land plentiful, instead of reaching for what has already gone.

"We will no longer be the last of the Elvhenan. We will be the first."

One of the older Keepers straightened. "Those who wish to live as we have been are free to do so. Each clan may make their choice, and anyone not pleased with the overall decision will be allowed to join a new clan.

"That said, Clan Lavellan." Ellana stood tall, nodding. "I understand you have all made your choice."

"Yes, hahren. We have." The ten remaining elves of Lavellan moved to the front, most already near.

"And your decision?"

"We will stay in Eir'lasan, with our Keepers."

The declaration in plural caused a small stir, but the elder raised a hand. "Then you will take on those without clan who wish to join you. Marquess Briala of Orlais. You have demonstrated you are as much one of the people as any, and understand the human world better. You are granted the right to begin your own clan, and to continue to speak for us in your land with the voice of our elders."

"I will use it wisely," Briala assured with a bow of her head.

"What of the Inquisitor?" a voice called from the back near Solas. The question was then repeated many times over until Ellana held her hand out.

"Inquisitor Belathen Lavellan was first-hunter of our clan. Her strength is what united us all," the blonde noted. "She already speaks with a voice louder than any Keeper; it rings out through all Thedas! We welcome her as a sister but do not presume to claim her." She cleared her throat, looking around. "Eir'lasan is built on Haven, a place she fought to protect. We will welcome her aide and leadership- whenever it again becomes available." The comment ended with what Solas could only call a snicker. So his da'sha was alright then...

It came to Solas that there had been no votes as was so common, no real argument about the conclusions. It was as if consensus had been predetermined, and the announcement a formality. The people had chosen their representatives and those few had spoken.

It was what he had wanted for them ages ago.

They had achieved it not because of his doings, but in spite of them. Solas had left to try and reopen the Fade in a slow, measured manner that would not doom the world, and in his absence Ellana had found a better way.

As the Arlathvhen separated, the Keepers heading out, a single voice started. It was soft, hesitant... fumbling around ancient words that hadn't quite survived the test of time. Later nobody would remember who the girl was- not that it mattered.

"Melava inan enansal, ir su araval tu elvaral u na emma abelas."

The song began there, but the people entered quickly. It went once in Elvhen, then repeated in the trade tongue, gaining every voice by the conclusion.

"Be certain in need and the path will emerge to a new home tomorrow. Then time will again be the joy it once was."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song by the way is Suledin... it just seemed to fit!


	54. Wolf at the Door

It wasn't until the third day of the Arlathvhen in Eir'lasan that the inevitable occurred. Until that point Solas hadn't decided if he was going to approach Ellana at all; when he caught sight of her in the tavern pulled into a raucous dance with Sera the last bit of resolve dissipated and he knew he had to talk with her. Her smile looked forced, and he was suddenly struck by the act that some of the hairs had gone from light blonde to pure white at the root. It wasn't aging- she was stressed and lonely, a situation with which he was all too familiar. When Sera lost control and loosed the female mage, Ellana on vector to go toppling into an abandoned chair just on the edge of the room, Solas made his final decision and headed over to catch her.

The concept didn't work very well. He wound up on the chair, forced to sit rather harshly, and Ellana was directly on his lap with an almost crushing force. Her hair was in his nose- she had taken to weaving flowers in it, the braiding exquisite itself, but now he got a good look and could identify the blossoms. They were blue today, but still the same kind.

Gillyflower.

Andruil had playfully mocked her female lover mercilessly for favoring the useless blossom. It wasn't stately or pretty like the rose, nor did it have any healing properties like so many others. It was just a little fluffy thing, one with a tolerably spiced scent like a clove. As Fen'harel, in another life, he had dearly loved that Ghilan'nain chose to appreciate a simple frivolity and had gifted her with the flower whenever he was able to find it. He had been the first to call her Gilly, as much for the flower as the shortening of her name. Ellana was more practical, but it seemed she shared a love of the flower with the first slave of many granted true freedom.

Ellana seemed to compute that she wasn't alone very slowly, and when she turned around she only blinked. "Oh. Hello, Solas." She stood up slowly, trying to catch her feet but sliding back down. "I might be a tad dazed by Sera's spinning me round," she whispered conspiratorially.

"Or inebriated," he countered, one single eyebrow arching in amusement.

"Ineb... Creators no! I don't drink unless I need help smoothing the transition to sleep, I'll have you know."

That was puzzling. "Aren't you surprised to see me then?"

Ellana shrugged before she moved to whisper directly in his ear. "Fen'harel is always a surprise, lethallin." The words were one thing, but the throaty whisper sent a tingle down his spine, added to by the way her breath gently played around his ear. Unfortunately or fortunately (he wasn't sure which) she pulled back and stood up, this time able to properly right herself. "But no. Last time we spoke I said I knew you would be back. I may not have known if it would be in my lifetime mind you, but I had hope."

In the Fade, Solas had carried confidence. She had broken some of his barriers, and he had been courageous enough kiss her. That courage left now when she was before him, on his lap- well above it now and... curse his tendency for internal rambling. He settled for just saying "I didn't think you could do it."

Ellana laughed. "What? Get a bunch of historically angry people to make a combined decision? It happens all the time."

"No," Solas corrected. "I didn't expect how you would use your knowledge and magnetism. I never imagined you would... you change everything, vhenan."

"Everything?" Ellana asked, and Solas realized his slip. Thankfully that was the word she had focussed upon. "That's a rather broad accusation."

"But apt. I'm almost surprised I didn't feel it immediately."

"You were upset and I was confused," Ellana offered. "I was a very desperate person when I came back and all you knew was the stupid thing I'd done to someone you care for." With a laugh, Ellie added, "I still can't believe how childish I was. And... cruel."

Solas stood with Ellana, taking her hand and gesturing to the dance floor. It was a soft song, and moving would keep them from being fully overheard. Ellie nodded in acceptance and they started their dancing, close enough to speak but just far enough for propriety. See here along the way both of them let their arms slack as they spoke of their companions until hers rested at his neck and his around her waist.

"Bel will never accept it," Ellana sighed at a random quiet point. "She barely forgave Rainier, and he got shipped off to the Wardens."

"I'm not Rainier," Solas pointed out.

"You lied. Wolf." Her eyes were dancing.

"You... aren't afraid?" That wasn't unexpected. Mystifying, actually.

"A very wise hahren once told me we have nothing to fear from wolves."


	55. The Little Things

Autumn came to a close fast and hard. With the end of the season came snow, ice...

And a very, very exhausting day at Skyhold for those who remained. Though nobody could ever say the results weren't worthwhile.

Much to everyone's surprise, when Cullen had (perhaps inevitably) bumped into Anders, there was no hint of animosity. It was the timing more than likely- in the end, the former Templar breathed a sigh of relief at the recognition and remarked he would have been hard-pressed to find a better choice to make sure everything went well. Kirkwall had been a place of hushed whispers, but he would have had to be deaf not to know what the healer had accomplished in Darktown.

And half a day later there was success.

Belathen was understandably exhausted, and Anders was plainly adamant she give in to the natural need for sleep. To the point of forcing the issue. Which left Cullen and Dorian to contemplate their newest family member, their daughter, on their own together.

"Well." Cullen considered the girl with a very wide smile. "It would appear I have my work cut out for me."

"Hmm." Dorian couldn't help smirking.

"Oh don't look so smug!" He reached a finger towards her, letting her grab for it. "She's going to have all three of us wrapped around her little finger in a matter of days anyway."

"I don't doubt that," the mage admitted, looking at her again. "I have a feeling she'll get our snowdrop's smile. That's dangerous when paired with..." Here he stalled, peeking up at Cullen.

The former Templar finished the thought. "...Your dashing good looks?"

"That too. You'll need to teach her to fend suitors off with a stick."

There really was no question. She had just enough tufts of hair to make the fact it was a very familiar brown clearly visible, and even if that wasn't the case the color of her eyes the few times she opened them would have made her parentage obvious. An elvhen quirk made them shine a bit more brilliantly, but they were already that deep stormy mixture of grey and blue. Unfortunately that glimmer of bright eyes was the only indication of her elvhen heritage, and like all of mixed blood always would be...

"Oh she is absolutely precious!" Josephine squealed as she came up the stairs. "Oh! I'm sorry! Am I... interrupting a family moment?"

"It's fine," Cullen volunteered, sliding over a bit so Josie could get a better look.

"You... don't see much of the Inquisitor in there yet, do you?" Josie noted. Then, shaking her head, she added, "I'm sure she'll grow into some of Bela's traits."

"Perhaps." That was Dorian, no longer hesitating to express some agitation at the observation.

"We will want to send out announcements quickly of course, before the passages become impossible," Josephine recovered, backing up a bit. "I'll get started on that."

"Excellent idea." Cullen had to admit he wasn't quite ready to share the moment himself at this point.

"What name should I use?" Josephine asked, a little shyly.

"Pardon?"

"Not... Maker! Her name. The baby. Do you have one yet?"

The two men blushed a bit at the misunderstanding. "Apologies," Cullen offered. "I thought Bela would have mentioned."

"Shani." Dorian spoke up, offering the name Bel had admitted she wanted but thought to pass on because it was very... well, the word she had used was 'elfy.' "Her name is Shani Lavellan."

Cullen paused, but nodded as he remembered the conversation himself. "Absolutely. Shani Lavellan."

"A beautiful name," Josephine approved with a wicked chuckle. "It makes a bold statement. I will enjoy flaunting it for you three."

When the Antivan left, Dorian and Cullen were left alone holding the newly named infant.

"She'll either kiss us or kill us for that you realize," Dorian noted.

"But it's us, not just you," Cullen pointed out. "She can't hate both o us. If she could conjure up actual hate at all. Besides, it's your daughter too. You have the right to pick as much as she does."

Dorian nodded, but corrected, "She's OUR daughter, amatus. Realistically she is yours as much as mine. Or Bel's."

At that, Shani looked up to Cullen and cooed lightly, a sound both men took as an agreement before they sat down to make them all more comfortable.


	56. Tel'Harellan

Ellana woke with a headache... and a partner in bed. Her first thought was panic until she rolled to her side identified the mystery visitor.

It had been months since the Arlathvhen and meeting up with him again. Almost two months ago he had suggested they dream in tandem, allowing him to teach her how to move location instead of just time. It proved a difficult exercise, and he still found himself guiding her each night, leading to this unique solution. According to Fen'harel, it was rare even in the original Elvhenas- but he was willing to try. He'd said it was for the good of the People.

"That felt... rather too intimate," Ellana admitted as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Ma abelas, lethallan. I should have warned you when the terms changed."

"I... what exactly..." She couldn't quite ask what had happened.

Fen'harel understood anyway. "I mixed our magic, just as promised. I knew you would get some of mine." His explanation ended abruptly as he sought another turn of phrase. "I did not expect reflective actions. I seem to always be underestimating the strength of your own focus and will. It may well be indomitable."

"Indomitable?"

"At least I presume it cannot be dominated," he amended. "I have not seen it. I imagine that the sight would be... fascinating." With that, Fen'harel shifted uncomfortably and gave a small shrug. "Your magic refused to blink. It demanded to blend. It also required more persuasion than I had anticipated to accept my influence. I... may have over-compensated."

Ellana considered the implication of that single phrase. "Just how overly compensated are we talking?"

He looked almost... oh so that was what he looked like completely embarrassed! He stood up quickly, which is when Ellana realized he had been wrapped around her waist tightly. As he extricated himself, Ellana repeated the action on her side.

"Well. You won't have to worry about not being able to move around in the Fade at will anymore." That was simple enough for him to say. "If you get in trouble, I'll be able to find you- and vice versa."

"Interesting. I take it this is something that you've done before then."

It was a very pervasive silence that followed her question. Ellana immediately knew she had hit on a nerve, and was about to apologize and forget the query before she heard a response she wasn't sure was for her ears: "Twice, vhenan, and neither by accident."

"Fenedhis! Ir abelas, lethallin."

"That isn't necessary. This was my..."

"Mistake?"

"No. Choice."

Oh. "Then I thank you doubly, Fen'harel." She paused again. "I... you... there have been several indications that..."

"That I care for you? I couldn't keep that secret, Ellana. However hard I tried."

She found herself shaking slightly. "When you left... What was your intention?"

Fen'harel balked. "I had planned to find the power... to open the Veil I created to protect the world, and see if there is anything left of the companions I sealed away."

"The betrayers." Ellana wasn't questioning, and the thick recrimination in her voice was allowed to resound. She meant to remind him, or inform him, she knew everything he had done. And why. "Is that still your plan?"

"Without you it would have been," he admitted with a hitch of his breath.

"And destroy our chance at rebuilding? The chance you gained for us?"

"I had no way to know..."

"You could have trusted us!" Ellana spat. "Even if not me, you have referred to Bel as though she was your daughter long enough you could have trusted HER!"

"Bel was caught up in her shemlinen, rightfully so," Fen'harel tried to defend. "And I couldn't predict what you would do with so much knowledge so quickly..."

"We're ALL shemlinen now, Fen. Me, Bel... the People are short little lights, used to processing complex ideas in a short time. It's how we learn. How we live."

He balked at that. It wasn't her intention, but she knew she had startled Fen'harel. "I never meant to offend you, or... to... make that so."

"But it is!" No use backing down now. "All actions have consequences. I don't blame you for the past, but you must work towards the future. Now that you see, now that you know, will you still persist in your madness and seek their release?"

"I don't know." At least he was learning. At least that was honest. "There are many that are... were... very dear to me."

"Until you do, then, I'm not sure if we can be... friends. Much less more. Do you understand?"

It was a small disappointment, but an expected one. And once spring came he would have the much harder talk. Because then he would have to admit to Belathen all his lies and wrongdoings, and hope she didn't want him dead for it.


	57. Resolution...ish

Shani was laughing. At what, he wasn't particularly sure, but the small child was definitely amused by something. It could just be that spring was here, after so long, and the colors in the garden as they wandered amused her. Maybe it was a bright butterfly she had picked up with her keener-than-normal eyesight in the distance. Somehow, though, she was laughing.

It was, Dorian decided, a nice change after months of crying.

Just as he thought it, she was at it again.

"I'm sorry, Shani; did the little bird disappear on you?" Obviously Belathen had caught whatever was entertaining the girl. Sympathetic, she grabbed the little yellow halla toy from Cullen's sister and started to make it dance slowly before the child's eyes. The little giggle started up again, and Bel gave a quite relieved sigh. "That's it. The halla is dancing for you."

"Ha?"

"Halla," Bel corrected gently. "You'll get there, Shani."

"Hal?"

"No da'len, halla."

"Hal."

Bel rolled her eyes. "She's persistent."

"Can't imagine where she gets that from," Dorian noted dryly. Only to find himself playfully attached by the halla, Shani still giggling. "Now now, don't give her any ideas for when she's older."

Belathen had just put the toy at her daughter's side when Cullen rushed through the arches. He had a look most of the way to exasperation. "We have a problem."

"We're the Inquisition, enasalin," Bel reminded. "We always have a problem. I seem to recall that's why we were created."

"That may be true, but this is different from most. Josephine has had a visit."

Bel brightened. "Mia? We weren't expecting her for another week..."

"No, love. Ellana..."

"Ellie!" Before Cullen could stop her, Belathen was already using her recently regained speed to practically disappear without a trace. Cullen's eyes followed first with amazement and then frustration before turning back Dorian.

"How bad is it?"

"Solas is with Ellana."

"Venedhis, amatus!" With that he bundled Shani up, grabbed the halla, and hurried with a more measured step across to the Inquisition's new receiving room. Cullen tailed after, wary...

By the time both men arrived, Belathen was already wrapping her arms around Solas' neck with a tearful and shaky, "Ada!"

"Ir abelas, emma da'sha," was the very subdued response. From there their conversation took a very rhythmic turn, remaining in the ancient language Cullen was cursing himself for not attempting to study beyond basics. Then again, even Dorian- whose studies had gone far beyond that of the Commander, especially after the Well of Sorrows- seemed a bit lost by whatever they were saying. It was only a few minutes into the frantic discussion that Bel started to tear up, her words breaking even as Solas became more flourished. Then, quite unexpectedly, Belathen's hand came out to slap him across the cheek. When she did, the tears ran fully and she started to fall to the floor with a single word repeating from her lips: "Harellan!"

She never made it to the puddle on the floor. Instead, she quickly found Cullen behind to catch her, pulling her into an embrace and pulling her back upright. In almost the same instant Dorian was handing Shani off to Josephine, ignoring the reflexive crying from the baby. "Take her upstairs," Dorian suggested, and Josie agreed as she headed upstairs to the familiar little alcove in the library.

Leaving the other five alone, Ellana already standing and checking Solas' cheek while Cullen held Bel on the other side, Dorian inserting himself between the two pairs with a strong glare at his fellow mages.

"I can't claim I understood most of that," he admitted, "but she obviously did. I don't care what you did but you WILL stay away."

"I am sorry," Solas whispered, looking over. "I never intended..."

Belathen broke it with a laugh. "You know the strongest dalish curses don't even apply. May you learn... may the dread wolf take you." She actually laughed harder at that one before seriousness took over. "For you, Harellan, one I have not used before. Ma emma harel. To the FADE with your half-hearted intentions."

"Abelas, da'sha."

"Emma tel'da'sha, Harellan. I could forgive a lot- your leaving, your purpose... even your identity. But you hid from me, lied to me, and..." Even as she tried to finish, the Anchor flared to a brief life, causing her to cry out instead. Cullen's grip loosened in surprise, and she was suddenly toppling forward. Dorian had his back to her and moved just a bit too slowly; Solas was faster, hurrying forward to catch and bring her down to the ground gently.

"It's my fault," the elvhen mage acknowledged, "and this is the worst part. At least let me fix this, Inquisitor. I can teach you how to be in full control whatever the future brings." He looked up, seeing Cullen and Dorian both approaching quickly. "For your family."

"Bela..." Cullen started, but she raised a hand, eyes falling on Solas. As she did, he reached for the palm with the green scar and folded his hand around it. Almost immediately it responded, easing to almost nothing. The former Templar could only sigh in relief as his head ran through scenarios and memories of when he'd first seen her, when the anchor was still warping and killing her. "How are you doing this?"

"Simple. The orb was mine, the energy mine. I went to great pains to recover more of my power- in large part for this very purpose. What was in the orb was never meant for one individual to hold, much less a mortal woman." Looking back at Bel, he repeated, "I'm so sorry, da'sha. Had I not been concerned about detection this would have happened much sooner, but by the time I could trust you Rainier was discovered and I knew your character."

After a few moments of silence which nobody dared break, the Inquisitor's voice rang out strong. "No more secrets. No more plots. No plans."

Ellana took point, cutting in with the response, "He has already agreed that our plan deserves its chance."

Bel nodded. "Alright. We will see." Her eyes narrowed. "But you will explain this all to the others."

"Sera knows," Ellie offered. "She called it 'unbelievable weird elfy shite' and stuck her thumbs in her ears."

That finally got everyone giggling. Solas helped Belathen up, Dorian stepping into his place. Cullen was only one step behind the Tevinter, grabbing Bel firmly by the opposite arm. "I believe an explanation was promised," Cullen noted.

"This is going to take time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that is the end of the primary sequel dealing with the rebuilding and Shani...
> 
> I may or may not do some little epilogue pieces as time jumps, if there is any interest.
> 
> It has been a pleasure!


	58. Glimpse 1.1 - One Year Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support!
> 
> I have a few flash forwards that I'll put in order, and SOMEONE *glare in proper direction with a roll of eyes* requested a spin off with Cassandra and Bull that I'm now anxious to write, so we apparently aren't done yet.
> 
> Hope it is enjoyable still!

Belathen Lavellan was fairly confident she was no longer needed as Inquisitor anymore. The circumstances of this pseudo-reality were amusing, but had the same effect: she was no longer in charge at Skyhold. No, at this time the Inquisition seemed very much to be led by a fifteen-month-old girl with startlingly storm-bright eyes and thick brown hair that she refused to let anyone brush without a fight. Even Bel would, from time to time, bend to the child's will if only to keep the peace in her own family.

Dorian was typically weak against the little one. It wasn't a matter of self-discipline; for the mage, it was a matter of preservation. Shani had a very strong proclivity for climbing on his lap and asking him everything that came to mind until and unless he gave in and let her be otherwise occupied. The answers were not as useless as one would think for a very young child; Dorian had quickly realized she never asked the same question twice and got it in his mind to surreptitiously quiz her- only to learn that Shani, even so young, had an encyclopedic memory. The realization would have been startling if Solas hadn't been nearby to ask and offer that children in ancient Elvhenan had developed their minds quickly, and while she was nowhere near the rate it had been in those times an early eidetic memory was a gift that may well come from her Elvhen heritage.

Which led to a somewhat uncomfortable situation.

"So," Dorian asked Belathen shortly after Solas answered the query, "it had to come from somewhere. Did you or your parents..?"

Belathen raised a hand to cut off the rest of his question. "I get it. I... don't know, ma lath." She took a deep breath and stepped away. "I would have no way of knowing. The woman I called mamae wasn't the woman who gave birth to me, and I barely remember the woman who was. Just... images and sounds, really."

Dorian stopped, stunned. "How did I not know this?"

Bel shrugged a bit, explaining, "It's not exactly something I have ever run around proclaiming. My real mother was a mage who didn't come into her own until she had me. She was young- perhaps too young for the pregnancy- and whatever had been holding her abilities broke during childbirth. Unfortunately there were already three mages in the clan, so she was sent away to a nearby clan while I remained with Lavellan."

It was Cullen who caught on quicker. "So you didn't know either of your parents?"

"Not really. Just the stories I heard from the woman who raised me. I know my mother's name though: Shani."

The two men were suddenly even more relieved they had gone over Bel's objections and used the name for their daughter. Even as the Inquisitor slid into a chair, one already occupied by Dorian forcing her to simply end up on his knee, the child in question tired of her own personal game and game over to Cullen.

"Daddy! Play?"

"In a minute. Why don't you pick a toy for our game?"

Cullen was by far the most successful at getting Shani to listen. With him she gained some strange kind of patience, even if she did try to cling to him. There was a reason a box of her toys had wound up in his office after all, and she had become a consistent sight either in his arms or holding his hand. That was, of course, when she wasn't 'helping' mamae and Aunt Josey welcome guests. Belathen would never forget the day that the little girl, then eight months old, had spit up all over the duke of Wycome. It had been a small payback, but an apt one she could blame on a young child and not her own malice.

"I've been thinking," Cullen noted as he watched Shani fumble through the toybox, "that if Anders and... Fen'harel... agree it is safe, we might stop being so..."

Belathen's ears perked and burned as the Commander fumbled on his meaning. "Careful, you mean?"

"Yes. Thank you, love. Less careful." Then, quickly, he added, "If you're both amenable."

Bel peered over at Shani, then Cullen, and finally Dorian. "I suppose I could handle one more," she admitted. "You, Dorian?"

The Tevinter male had a somewhat shell-shocked look. "Another one? I guess that it wouldn't hurt anything as long as it's only one more."

"That's settled then. We will let fate decide this one."

With that decision out of the way, Cullen went to entertain Shani, grabbing her favorite toy (still the little halla) and setting himself on the ground beside her. Bel and Dorian looked at each other a moment, then the mage let out a sigh.

"That does make this conversation a little more difficult," he noted. "There is something I do need to ask you, however."

"Anything you need, love," Bel assured, leaning back. She still had the jasmine scent Cole suggested, only now instead of curiosity it sparked a very gentle calm in response. She could feel that sharp inhale, then the ease as some of his tension faded in its presence.

"We already know where Shani's gifts are going to lie," Dorian explained. "Only four of us have that information. Or... should. I got a letter from the Divine."

Belathen cursed, and Dorian had to laugh at the elvhen equivalent of 'meddlesome red-headed bitch.'

"She didn't state anything outright," Dorian assured, "but she made a few jabs and several solid points about southern Circles needing a different example. More to the point, she was asking if I wouldn't mind working with the small contingent here in Skyhold to help them along the way."

Bel connected the dots quickly. "And when the time comes Shani can study here, more than likely under your watchful protection, as opposed to being reassigned due to family proximity."

"That's the gist of it."

"She's good," Bel noted, lapsing into a sigh. "I had been thinking along the same lines as our dear Divine Victoria, actually. You have a unique perspective of free mages- what works, what doesn't. It would be invaluable."

"You... agree with Leliana?"

"I don't like being blackmailed into it, but I do agree with her ideals here." There was another curse, this time one Dorian didn't know. And he had made it a point to know every word she had organically learned.

"Snowdrop? Language."

The light warning jarred the elf out of the deeper recesses of her mind beautifully thanks to Solas' training. She took a deep breath before stretching out and getting to her feet. "Apologies, ma lath. I'm just a little... furious."

"But you want me to accept."

Belathen just nodded. "This won't happen again, however. I'LL handle the Divine when I head to Val Royeaux for the prince's birth. And the dress fitting for Cassandra's ceremony." At that she shuddered. "I still have no idea how I got roped into that one."

Dorian's eyes twinkled mischievously. "I rather say Cassandra is the one being 'roped' in," he chuckled. Bel's cheeks flushed bright red at the implications before the Tevinter added, "I do understand her choice of officiant. She may seem Chantry-bred, but the Seeker is military through and through. And you more than Cullen act as her commander."

"I suppose that does make sense."

"That and I can't see the Iron Bull as one for a full Chantry wedding," Dorian quipped. "He'd fit in there as well as in... as in... a fine porcelain storefront."

"Or me in a blizzard," Bel offered humorously. "Well, before. I imagine if do quite nicely now. Not that I fancy trying it anytime soon. You'd probably end up having to rescue me again and then where would we be?"

When Bel offered her hand, Dorian took it with a small chuckle. "It would make much more sense the opposite way around next time, snowdrop." Even as he said it, there was a knowing smile between them. As if Dorian would allow either Belathen or Cullen to wind up having to come to his rescue; he was far too protective to let that happen, which was precisely why he had always wound up being the one doing the saving. It was amusing to see the streak was so uniquely Dorian in spite of Cullen's own tendency to mother.

Bel looked between the two men with a wide smile. They were hers, and they were perfect. It had been a strange three years to be sure- but in the end she couldn't imagine life any other way.


	59. Epilogue 1.2 - Ellana

A year changes perspectives. Ellana had learned that better than anyone, and was content to take advantage of the way her emotions molded with the times. Where she had been overly lonely a year ago, she now felt confidence taking over. Where she had felt like she was wading through a pool too large for her, she now could sense her own mastery of swimming in the ocean. The world felt upright and ready. She was ready. This, she could feel, was real.

Eir'lasan had developed quickly. The city was growing, each building more sturdy than the last. At the center of it all was still the grand circle, the white stone glistening in the sun. It had a statue at each prong, not of the gods but of the symbols of what they were meant to personify: justice, vengeance, craftsmanship, et cetera. Ellana looked down from her window as the sun rise to see a single figure already there, approaching one of he small statues with a slow, measured reverence. Ellie reached over to grab her cloak, as much to disguise the fact she was still wearing her pajamas as against the cold, and swished out the door and down, taking two mugs of tea as she swished by the confused barkeep who just dumbly nodded.

It was the figure of the huntress Ellana found him propped up against, legs curled up and head in his hands. She sat down beside him, offering the bitter beverage.

"Drink," Ellana suggested. "It'll shake of the evening."

Fen'harel chuckled humorlessly, but took the cup nonetheless. After a single swig he shook his head and scrunched his nose. "That is horrible."

"I just grabbed what Harolt had already started," Ellana justified.

Sighing, her companion sipped again. "Yours isn't nearly as unbearable," he admitted. Then, seeing her manner of dress, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know. Looking for you?"

"Good guess."

Ellana couldn't help but smile a bit. "Thinking, also."

"Me as well," Fen'harel offered. "I had planned to do so alone, Ellana."

Ellie shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't mean to intrude." She took her own cup and started to her feet, finding one elegantly moving hand latching on to halt her.

"You are not unwelcome. In fact, I cannot find it in myself to stop considering you of late."

Ellana caught her breath as she sank back to a sitting position at his side. "Fen..."

"I thought I was nothing more than my pride for so long. Thank you for proving me wrong." He sighed, lightly this time. "I see the People rise up again, I have a home again- even something of a family since Bel forgave me." He smiled, turning to Ellana. "Is it selfish to want more?"

Ellie softened, reaching for his cheek. One finger brushed along the side, her eyes closing on instinct. Her lips barely parted as she whispered, "No."

The word never had a chance to fully exit as she found herself quite inelegantly pulled towards him and her mouth taken up by an insistent kiss. Unlike before, she returned it and felt it returned fully in kind. The sensation was intoxicating. When he finally pulled away, Ellana almost pouted- and he laughed at the sound.

"Are you going to tell me you've been neglected for too long?" he mocked.

Ellana shook her head. "Not at all. I was just going to remark I've been waiting a long time for you, ma fen."

That response guaranteed another kiss, and far more besides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a somewhat sad thing happened last night. I received a comment I had to delete because it was a straightforward threat and flame. It wasn't about the polyamory either- it was the bisexuality, claiming it was homophobic.
> 
> Pot, kettle. If I had even an inkling of that by the way.
> 
> I apologize for the below soapbox, but this is IMPORTANT. In a world where love is winning by and large, there are still some barely visible prejudices... and some more visible ones.
> 
> For example- did you know most bisexuals are taught by the same friends who would otherwise accept them that they have to choose to live either as gay/lesbian or straight? And that isn't limited to any one type or style of person- it is very pervasively real. In fact, the fact that an individual truly can seek their partner among both genders equally tends to be so hidden many bisexuals go about life with only a small inkling of their potential to love because they will either convince themself they aren't attracted to one gender or the other... or that there is something wrong with that.
> 
> LOVE ISN'T LIMITED. For some it is a physical response; for others, as I have gone about trying to describe in this story, it is a mental response. And neither is wrong. But those of you who have stuck with me probably already know something along those lines.
> 
> So please! No bashing! I get if it doesn't feel organic and will accept criticism; I understand if it feels unnatural to the character, but THREATS and BASHING? Not ok. Do I think this is where Bioware is going (since it is fairly obvious that they aren't done with Dorian)? Not sure- probably not, though it would almost fit. This is a fan story after all! I did this as a response request and am pleased with how it turned out- based on the comments of you, dear readers, it seems I am not alone.
> 
> In the words of my favorite author- love as thou wilt.


	60. Epilogue 2.1 - Dorian

"Your Shani... she really is something else, isn't she?"

Dorian chuckled at his father as he nodded. "That she definitely is. I'm not sure whose influence that is but she is certainly her own creature."

Halward Pavus looked around the room, a uniquely bright pink creation thanks to Solas' assistance and the now three-year-old Shani's request. "I do not believe any of you would have suggested this," he pointed out.

Dorian shrugged. "It isn't so bad."

"Living in the south must have polluted your impeccable sense of style."

"Having a three-year-old managed that," Dorian corrected. "Especially a particularly headstrong girl."

"I suppose so." Halward stalled a moment before taking a deep breath and considering the full contents of the room. "I have what you requested by the way. Both of them."

Dorian blinked. "I didn't expect that you would have them. I anticipated more of an argument, really."

"No argument from me, though the magisterium may see things differently when the time comes."

Dorian could only nod in response. "Well, we can deal with that when the time comes."

The duo had spent the morning in this room reorganizing after the painting project, Cullen handling the new troop movements and Belathen working on magic with Solas. Halward had joined them for a celebration of sorts to acknowledge the new election at the attached Circle of Magi in Skyhold, resulting in Dorian's selection as First Enchanter thanks to his extensive work and organization. The Tevene Magister had been skeptical at first, but quickly admitted he couldn't be more proud of what his son had accomplished in the south. Now, as the afternoon started, the duo had found this menial chore had brought them together- and got them talking as though it was completely natural. As if Dorian hadn't been away for years.

As they came to a close, a far-too excited bundle of energy ran up the stairs and flung the doors open into the room. "Papa! Grampa! Look!"

Shani was bouncing in place as she stood in front of the two men, suddenly very rapt and attentive. Then, smiling, she held up her hand and a small flame of pale yellow came briefly to her fingertips. She frowned (pouted, really) and took a deep breath and tried again, this time the flame staying up a little longer.

Halyard looked shocked, speechless. Dorian just paled a little before erupting in a smile and picking her off the ground.

"Very good, firebug!" he proclaimed as he swung her around, the girl giggling in delight.

The older magister just blinked and simply stated, "She is three."

"Ah-huh. Three," Shani helpfully reiterated through her giggle.

In Tevinter, there were rules and planning and bloodline tracing to try and get magical talents as early as possible. Seven was common, six at least likely. A scant few gained their abilities as early as five. And here, outside the Imperium, Dorian had managed to completely break everything that was known about magical talent. A three-year-old, elf-blooded girl was literally playing with fire.

"Papa," Shani asked as Dorian stopped the celebration, "I wanna make pictures on my walls."

"Of course." He had suspected she might ask. "Whatever you would like."

She bit her bottom lip, a little quivering year coming. "I wanted halla an' snakes, but the mean man said they don' go together."

"Mean man?" Dorian asked, one eyebrow quirking.

"He met with Aunt Jo." She scrunched her nose. "I don't think he liked me or mamae much."

Dorian caught a breath. Someone else upset about his... status... with the Inquisitor no doubt, and putting it on little Shani. "I'm sorry, Shae. You shouldn't have had to hear that."

"Is it true?" Shani asked, looking up with a child's slight tears. "Do halla and snakes make bad friends?"

At that, Halward melted. He reached his arms out to his granddaughter, who took them tentatively and allowed him to lift her up and hold her. It had been a few days, and she was willing to at least give him a small chance.

The older Pavus reached into a pocket in the folds of his outfit and drew out a medallion. He handed it to the girl, who looked at it skeptically.

"I heard that too once," he told the girl. "But then I saw something one day. A lonely little halla clearing a path, while a small snake got rid of anything that was trying to hurt her. They sound like friends to me. How about you?"

"Uh-huh."

He handed the girl the medallion, on a small woven chain. Shani looked at it carefully, and Dorian could almost imagine what she was seeing as her eyes bugged out. On one side would be the Tevinter crest, the dual snakes, with the Halward coat of arms lain between it; on the other would be the symbol of the Dalish empire with a halla leaping up in the center, raised up. A small revision on the original Pavus birthright, one to show the inclusion of another. Usually it was not presented until a marriage, but this was a unique situation; there would be a second, that one with the Inquisition symbol and a single lion at rest on the side opposite the Pavus pageantry.

This would blow Shani's mind.

"Oh," was what the young girl actually said, the sound bright and excitable. Then she handed the item back to her grandfather and hugged him soundly. "I get it. I can put them both on the wall."

"And maybe a few little lions?" Dorian suggested.

Shani shook her head. "Ma- mada... puppies," she settled on.

"Mabari," Halward suggested as a revision.

"Mabari," Shani repeated. Then she squirmed until she was set down again and began to concentrate on the little flame.

"Not yet, firebug," Dorian cautioned. "Your tutor sent you here, and we are going to see your mother."

Dorian might have self control. So did Cullen, for that matter. But neither man had 'sit silent while someone puts a needle to your face and makes artwork' control, and that was exactly what Shani was going to need.

"I can show mamae the fire?"

"I'm sure she and daddy will both want to see it," Dorian assured with a chuckle. "Soon you'll be able to make it really listen to you, Shani. Won't that be wonderful?"

If he had seen the future, there would have been more of a struggle.


	61. Epilogue 2.2 - Cullen

Cullen was a great teacher, no question about that. However he also had a particular shine to learning and relearning, to adjusting his knowledge to new situations and abilities. It made him extremely coachable when he had to be- and with the request he had surreptitiously made of Cassandra after Shani was born, he had to. Failure was not an option.

It had taken the better part of three years, but he had managed to find his focus again. With Cassandra's aide he now was able to access most of his Templar abilities without the need for lyrium, thanks to her dedicated teaching of the way Seekers called on their will. Bel had guessed it early on and provided something's big of an anchor, but the better motivation had been Dorian. Once the Tevinter mage understood what Cullen was doing and how important it was to the Commander, Dorian had made sure Cullen wasn't going to lose himself in this. The help and support was invaluable- particularly near the end.

This particular day started with the surprise of Shani showing off her newfound magical prowess. In a very unexpected, unfortunate way that indicated Belathen had her work cut out for her teaching self-discipline and meditation.  
"I'm almost offended," Dorian sighed with a shake of his head. "When she's good and quiet it doesn't matter, she could technically be either of ours. But the minute she throws a miniature fireball at a marquise it's my fault and she is MY daughter?" The lightness in Dorian's voice betrayed the seriousness of the comment. He was about to break into laughter, not to mention he already had the girl reaching up as he took her in his arms.

"Well she didn't get magical talent from me," Cullen warned, coming over to the duo. "And we mustn't throw fireballs, Shani. You know better."

"But she was making fun of you and mamae, wasn't she daddy?" She looked at Cullen confused, those deep eyes that were so like Dorian's that he almost told her it was perfectly acceptable.

"I'm sure she was, little one, but we still can't set her on fire." That was Dorian cutting in, bopping the child on the nose playfully. "You will remember that, yes?"

"Yes, papa. No fires. Even if the vishantin deserve it."

Dorian coughed, flushing red. Cullen sighed even as the Tevinter claimed, "She didn't learn it from me!"

"Mamae called the Divine that. Is it a wrong word?"

Shani looked so confused, so upset, that both her father's relented. "We will have to have a talk with your mamae, little one," Cullen grumbled. "Yes, it's a wrong word."

"Sorry, daddy- papa. And sorry about the fire."

Dorian took the little girl up the steps to her room, a small space just below the Inquisitor's quarters where she was certain to immediately wiggle out of his arms and let herself drop to the ground with surprising grace- her mother's doing, as the rogue had been adamant her daughter know how to safely fall in case of accidents as soon as the child was toddling. Dorian always happily allowed himself to get wrapped into her stories of princesses who fought for their prince's hand and the random gibberish she spouted while grabbing each stuffed animal in her room and petting it before setting it on her bed.

Meanwhile, Cullen headed to the rotunda and leaned on the doorframe, watching as Belathen and Solas spoke animatedly. They made sure to keep their voices soft so no one else in Skyhold could hear the exact words, but Cullen was sure he could guess what was happening. Bel had likely thought of another strange manipulation of the Fade, and Solas was trying to explain that it shouldn't work. Again. Half the time, Cullen was sure their debates would end in a slugging match. On the other hand, Belathen was often right.

"Ma sarennas, ada." Belathen wrapped the older elf in a friendly hug, and he returned it warmly. It was a far cry from when Solas had returned and announced his presence; Cullen was surprised he hadn't wound up with a wolf pelt to spread on the floor before the fireplace. Instead, Bel had been furiously angry for a month and then approached the elven apostate of her own accord to learn how to control the anchor. Even Dorian didn't quite understand what the two were doing, but Bel assured them that it was 'as safe as playing with crazy dream-stuff can be.'

"You understand my warning?" Solas was asking, lightness in his expression in spite of a very serious tone. "It will be different this time."

"Jeay, ada. I understand."

"I know you do." That said, Solas bent to kiss her forehead gently. "But a father is free to worry about his child, is he not?"

"As you wish, fen'hahren." She stuck her tongue out with the name, turning to Cullen and dashing into his arms. "Ma'enasalin."

"Bela. Solas." He nodded towards the elder elf respectfully. "Is everything all right?"

"Better than," Belathen assured. "At least as long as you were still wanting to increase the size of our family."

"That would be..." The Coander's brain finally caught up. "Wait. Are you..?" Bel just nodded. "And you're sure?"

"The Fade doesn't lie."

"That's wonderful!" He grabbed her, spun her in the air just like the first time. And just like then, Bel looked a little green as he set her down on the ground. "Apologies."

"Just... let's tell Dorian. He'll need to know as well." She smiled wide. "I was thinking the double room below Shani. That girl could sleep through anything."

"Double room? Why?"

"That way we won't have to juggle them again later."

"I see. That makes sense." Bel mentally counted. She got to ten before he stopped walking. "You can't be serious."

"I am."

"They? As in more than one?"

"As in more than one," Bel confirmed.

If nothing else, the future would not be boring.


	62. Epilogue 2.3 - Ellana

Ellana dearly wished she could have gone with Fen'harel back to Skyhold. After two years together the bed felt empty without him there. She woke with a light jar after her evening reaching out, keeping company with the spirits she could find in the Fade in hopes of brushing off the sensation of loneliness. It was only partially successful. She would have to tell him...

With a lazy stretch, Ellie headed down the stairs and past Sera's room. The archer was still snoring, but there was the scuffle of her adopted daughter to prove the girl was most definitely awake. Sera was immune to he girl's morning sounds in a strange way, but that likely wouldn't last for more than another month. The child was half kossith, her elven mother unable to survive birthing the child. Sera had an affinity with the girl and somehow little Viola had become the archer's responsibility over the past year. Thick as thieves- and acting like them, too.

Ellana sighed as she opened the door to find Viola drooling in bed asleep while Sera was on the floor playing with her flasks, eyes slightly bloodshot. The blonde turned quickly and her face scrunched.

"Shh. You'll wake the baby."

Ellie blinked. "Sorry," she whispered, lightly closing the door on the strange sight. "Huh."

Eir'lasan had only grown in splendor and bustle. Even with Bel successfully negotiating return of the Emerald Graves and Briala's opening of Halamshiral, most of the people seemed to flock to the city at least seasonally. Trade routes were strong with both elven Aravels and merchant transports, the strongest agreements being with Orlais. Queen Anora had even officially recognized Eir'lasan as the "capital of a new Elvhenas" and began trade. There were pilgrimage trails, logging installations, and with the help of magic there were splendid crops for trade. The blossoming city wanted for nothing.

As the seat of elvhen politics, Eir'lasan needed to make a statement. And it had been made. Elections, a representative government of seven to ensure the safety and success of all. Ellana had been the first named, and 'Solas' the fourth. In a strange stroke of... something... Sera was the seventh, and while her idea of justice was extreme her thoughts in general (one wrangled) were quite brilliant. She brought the common voice to the council, making it easy to see why so many chose her to represent them.

It was perfect.

Ellana sighed happily as she sat at the tavern stool. This was definitely her life as she had hoped, but never dared dream. And whatever came next would be a slight mystery she would be happy to explore forever. Once she figured out that last bit of magic Gilly had started to teach her in the Fade.


	63. Actual Final Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I'm done going Peter Jackson on you all. This is the actual, factual last installment. Thank you all for your help, your support, and the encouragement!

Belathen took a deep breath as she looked at her oldest daughter, almost ready to cry. Instead she held the emotion back and just grabbed the girl's hand one more time.

"Are you sure about this?" the Inquisitor asked one more time. "It isn't too late to change your mind."

The girl pushed a wisp of her hair behind her ear and pulled her mom in for a hug with a whisper. "I'm sure, mamae. Even if it will be weird not being called Lavellan anymore."

"Ar Lavellan bellanaris," Belathen reminded the girl with a sad smile. Then she added, "But that isn't all you are. It never has been."

Shani nodded her understanding. She really was too wise for her fourteen years, and too inquisitive to remain where she had lived all her life. She wanted to see the world, to be more than she could here, and that desire led to this. That and meeting with the slightly older son of a Tevinter magister who had joined them for a season. Shani had spent several months thinking about the choices provided her before making this decision to head north. To study where her father Dorian had years ago, and come into her grandfather's care. Her request turned into so much more, since it was painfully obvious until that point that house Pavus would have no direct heir...

So instead the birthright would skip a generation. Shani was excited to experience life in the Imperium, and mature enough to understand at least some of what that would entail. Besides, if she changed her mind she would always have a home, and two other siblings who could decide to step in if necessary; not that any of their parents doubted Shani would prevail and persist in this choice, even if she might make waves.

Bel squeezed Shani's shoulder one last time before turning to Dorian. "One year," she reminded him. "We're meeting back here in one year."

"Of course, snowdrop." He gave her a quick kiss. "I would miss you both too terribly if I dallied any longer."

Cullen was on the other side finishing his own farewell to their mage daughter, so Bel just leaned in a bit to playfully mess with Dorian. "Is that so?" She let a sleeve fall, briefly exposing the top of her breast just to him, and brushed it up once she saw the darting eye and blink to ignore. "Oops."

"You know, I might make it back sooner..."

Bel only laughed. "I might not," she pointed out. "Best keep to the plan."

"This is why I hate you." He kissed her again, this time more deeply. "And love you."

"One year isn't so bad. We've managed worse." Dorian's hold tightened a little at the memory, but Bel soothed, "It isn't going to happen again, and I'll write every week so you know I'm safe."

That seemed to resolve things, and just in time too as Shani let go of her father Cullen and turned. "Ready, papa?"

Within minutes, Dorian and Shani were on their way north to Tevinter. Cullen stood on the ramparts with Bel for a minute, an arm wrapped around her waist and head leaning on her shoulder. "I'm worried about them," he confided.

With a small sigh, Bel nodded. "Me too a little, but I trust both of them. They'll be fine."

A pause after that as Cullen raised his head, resting it on top of hers as he added, "I'm more worried about you."

"It's Kirkwall, Cullen," Bel reminded. "And I'll hardly be alone."

The reminder made him stand up a bit straighter. "Very true."

"Daddy! Dad!" A sheer force of nature bounded up the stairs and glared at Cullen. "You promised me a lesson today."

Bel rolled her eyes in amusement as she heard Cullen bungle through a small apology to the ten year old girl with untamable curly blonde hair. She was not the kind who would ever be in a skirt, had despised them since she was a toddler, and Bel was just waiting for the adoration of her 'Auntie Cass' to cause her to chop off the locks of gold in protest. It wouldn't be a bad thing, really...

"And auntie told me she fought dragons! Real, live dragons!"

Bel couldn't hide her groan. Cassandra had broken the no dragon rule. Now her younger daughter would be unbearable and beg to fight one too. Shit.

"You know," Cullen offered slyly, "your mamae also fought dragons. In fact, I think her dagger is made of dragon bone."

"Wicked! Can I see it, mamae? Please?"

Bel glared at her Commander, her love, in such a way that he had to know he was dead. Instead he just gave that cocky grin. Damn him.

"Maybe after your lessons, Maisey," she offered. Checkmate, Cullen. The little girl brightened and turned to her father, now more eager to learn swordplay than when she arrived. His lips pursed as he realized Bel had won and sighed as he nodded and guided Maisey down the stairs to the practice yard.

Belathen took a deep breath and began seeking out her last child. She didn't have to go terribly far; the boy was curled up in a hay bale in the barn, but not alone. One one side was a half-qunari girl, and on the other a very elvhen boy. The trio was playing with a small litter of mabari that had just been born. Bel smiled lightly before dropping into the floor nearby.

"Are you all enjoying yourselves?"

"Mm-hmm," the qunari admitted as she reached down to scritch one puppy behind the ears. "Though ma is going to kill me."

Bel was confused for all of a minute before she understood. "You bonded with that one?"

Viola nodded, embarrassed. "His name is Cookie," she offered, blushing.

Somehow, Belathen thought the name would disturb Sera far more than the addition to her family. "I'll deal with your mother," she offered. "Cookie. Cute."

"I think sis needs to come in here," Bel heard her son say. He pointed to a beautiful little golden brown pup who was whining at his hand. "He's looking for her."

Sometimes his perception was frightening. Usually it was spot on. "I'll tell Mai," she offered. Then, with a small stretch, she stood. "We need to get ready, Felix. I want to get on the road tonight."

Felix nodded and scurried up. "Of course, mamae." Even as he stood the other two pulled themselves up with him, one at each cheek to give him a kiss. The boy blushed nearly as brightly as his red hair, shock showing as he dashed from the barn after his chuckling mother.

"So," she asked when they had walked a bit further, "Viola and Athim?"

"I..." Felix was, if possible, growing more brightly red. "I'm ten," he finished, quite definitively.

"Yes you are. Nothing to rush. Though you know, many noblemen are betrothed by the time they're ten..."

Felix snorted. "Because that worked for papa."

Point for the child with a sharp wit. "Keep that up," Belathen warned, "and I will leave you behind when I leave."

Felix finally looked stricken. "Mamae! You wouldn't."

"I might..."

"But Uncle Varric invited ME!" the boy protested with a small pout- but it was his mother's, so she was immune. "He promised to show me how to use Bianca."

Belathen chuckled a bit at the weak defense. "Well, we can't disappoint Bianca, can we?"

That night, as the sun started down, Cullen and Maisey finally stopped their swordplay to say farewell as Bel and Felix headed out of Skyhold in the descending coolness of the evening. Beside them were two more figures making the journey: the Champion of Kirkwall, and the apostate who started a war. That trio- no, Cullen mused, all four of them- were going to make waves. He looked forward to seeing the news out of the Free Marches.

"Daddy? Have you ever seen a dragon?"

Vishante kaffas.


End file.
